The Ginger Man
by slakalot
Summary: ATF. Follows Break the Fast. Far from a walk in the park! When an informant is assassinated by the infamous 'Ginger Man' Chris's past again comes out to haunt him. From deadly ducks to a bomb under a bridge, the boys are in for a dangerous ride.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **The following is a work of fanfiction based on the characters from the CBS television series, The Magnificent Seven. Thanks as always, to Mog for the AU

This was written a long time ago for a birthday challenge on the Black n Buckskin website.

**WARNING: Naughty language, few disturbing deaths (some of humans).**

And please forgive the bits of crappy Italian dialect!, I can say it, but I never could spell it so its written as it sounds!

Follows _Break The Fast_

ATF Universe

**1. The Ginger Man Can **

Thursday Night, March 14

Wade Newton had a talent, one which had led him to become a very dangerous man… and a very rich one. Since he was a child, he had loved to blow things up. Finding new and more interesting ways to do that had become his sole mission in life. It was art, to him. It was a creative expression of such magnitude that it often left him speechless for days after a particularly pleasing act of destruction.

To people in the know, Newton was referred to only as the 'Ginger Man', but few knew the reason why, for few had ever met him in person. It was a name that people interpreted as they would, having their own idea of why he was called such a name. Either way, it seemed an ironic label for a man that killed people for a living, serving only to heighten his deadly reputation in people's minds.

Anyone who happened to meet Newton in person instantly discovered the most obvious reason for the nickname that had in fact been given to him by the first man that had ever hired him in his chosen line of work. His orange hair was garishly bright in the sunlight, blending with the intense coverage of freckles that rode rampant on his almost translucent face. He was a man of average height with a too thin frame, leading one to wrongly assume he was a man of little consequence. If he ever wore short sleeves, even in the heat of summer, one might see that the freckles did not stop at his face, but Wade never showed more than his face and even then his pale blue eyes were covered in dark sunglasses. His thin, bony hands were always covered in gloves when he was out and he always wore skivvies or his shirt buttoned high, tucked into the extremely high waistband of his usual navy blue pants. It was an aversion to the sun, born of necessity, that had him presenting himself in such a manner, but he also had a complete lack of caring towards what was aesthetically pleasing to the human eye. There were more important things in life, he had discovered, than worrying about one's appearance.

Still, when people looked at Wade and quickly dismissed him from their thoughts, they easily missed the calculating mind that lay within. A mind which sat squarely in the category of genius, a mind that was responsible for more than twelve major bombings in the last three years throughout the country and countless smaller killings, all of which had taken out their intended targets instantly, most of which had taken out many other innocent people as well. It was that part which he loved the most, using a paid job and adding a little flair of his own to wreak death. Yes, it was a terrible fact; Wade Newton had been a busy man.

The fee for the employment of his skills was monstrous, yet there had never been a lack of clients wanting his services, earning him the status of millionaire several times over by the time he had reached just nineteen. He cared little about the targets he was hired to eliminate, the reasons and motivations for the hits were of little importance to him. As long as people were willing to pay him to blow things up, he was a happy man. If he were a businessman, he would have been on the cover of every magazine in the country for his amazing rise to the top of his field, yet it was not the money which motivated him. He was a professional explosives man, just like he'd always wanted to be, the money was just a bonus.

And why had Wade Newton decided to make his career blowing things up? Simple. As his father before him, Wade had never made an impact on anything in his life. He could not actually remember what his fathers voice had sounded like, so rarely had he heard it in the ten years he had known him before he had left - left him with a mother so domineering and cruel that she had been a major motivator in the building of his first explosive. He did it for the man that had never been able to stand up to her - had left rather than confront her, so weak was his character - and he did it for himself. For all of the long, lonely years spent being bullied and yelled at by her, Wade blew up his own mother with a lovingly designed bomb set to the timer of the kitchen microwave… and laughed for the first time that he could ever remember.

Years later, when he had moved town, he had returned and blown up the school that he had spent many a miserable year attending. The fact that the children who had callously teased him had long since moved on did not bother him, he had managed to destroy the foundations that had allowed his tormenting to take place. There was not a day in his youth that he did not face the cruel taunts of the children, about his hair, his too fair skin, and his often publicly humiliating mother. Yes, he'd smiled that day, even as he had watched from his motel room up the road the ambulances that whizzed past in a dizzying circus of light and sound.

Now laughter was something that came to him more often. As he planned, as he worked, as he dreamt and envisioned the roar and the aftermath of his creations, he found himself loving life – and the power he had to take it. He worked from his basement apartment that had never received a visitor since he had purchased the entire building and transformed the whole bottom floor into his haven of havoc. The tenants above had not a clue as to the evil that lurked beneath their floors, the dark, twisted and yet startlingly brilliant mind that sat beneath them.

If anyone was ever allowed into his home, they would instantly see the wealth he had amassed over the years in the massive space that was filled with every convenience a man could want. For all of the pleasures he had been denied as a child, he now pampered himself tenfold. There were signs though, if you looked past the modern furniture which he had moved in himself, glanced past the latest gadgets and entertainment systems that sat around the large, open space. Signs of the sinister hobby, which he pursued with passion.

The first thing a person might notice would be the freezing temperature the room was always kept at. This was partly due to Wade's preference for the cold and intolerance to heat, but also because he handled and kept explosives in the room. Either way, the temperature was barely tolerable to the average person and saw even he wear thick sweaters at all times when he was home, which was most of the time.

There were no windows in the room, only closed walls and dim lighting. A giant wooden bench stretched down the centre of the room and was filled with wires and parts and intricate tools, a computer screen always flickering at one end, filled with his plans and designs. He never used the public stairs either, there was only one entrance to his carefully maintained and hidden world, through a narrow doorway down a set of steep stairs that led to a vacant alley outside. The thick metal door and intricate alarm system was enough to deter anyone overcome with curiosity, although rarely did anyone see him come and go, for he usually did so in the early morning hours.

It was a cold, rainy afternoon in Denver when the phone rang quietly in Wades apartment. He did not spare it a glance as he sat at his long, wooden workbench, pale fingers working deftly in stark contrast to the black turtleneck sweater he wore. He never answered his phone, it was permanently linked to his computer system. This was just another call to him, someone wanting his services, another job he might consider. To seven men, however, which made up the specialised force of Team Seven within the department of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms, it was the phone call that would link his terrifying talents to their world and begin a chain of events that would change their lives forever.

As the phone continued to ring quietly he ignored it, his mind on the small toy in his cool fingers. He studied it carefully, placing it on the bench, putting back the last screw to the electronic compartment on its small, furry back as he reached to the packet of dark candies he was never out of supply of and popped one in his mouth. His computer beeped and the screen showed a cartoon picture of a ginger bread man, dancing across the screen, a phone receiver in his hand, ready to take the message.

"I have a job for you, you'll like it, nice public place. Call me back," his speakers announced in a distorted voice and the computer beeped again as the ginger bread man laughed on the screen, a maniacal sound that brought a smile to his own face again.

He placed the toy monkey in his hands onto the bench, flicking its switch to turn it on. The little hands opened and closed, clanging the small symbols in each hand together, making a tinkling noise that had the smile spreading wide on his thin, pale lips.

**2. A Walk in the Park **

Tuesday March 19, 6.00am

The coolness of the tiles beneath his bare feet brought Chris Larabee further awake as he crossed his bathroom floor and reached with heavy- lidded eyes to turn on the hot water in his shower. He waited, leaning heavily against the cold glass shower door, his naked body shivering and his mind dreaming again of the still warm bed growing cold in the adjoining room.

Goosebumps rode high on his lean body, his nipples hard in protest as he held out a hand to the flowing water, feeling for the first hint of warmth to run through the pipes that would end his discomfort. Finally feeling the chill leave the water, he stepped in once he saw steam begin to rise from the floor and added a little cold as he leaned forward, letting the hot water run over the smooth skin of his muscled back as he leant his forehead against the tiled wall and closed his eyes, his mind still unwilling to accept that his body was again vertical after only three hours of sleep.

He stayed that way for several minutes before he straightened and turned around, vaguely wondering if he had just drifted off again as he tipped his face to the source of the water from above, closing his eyes against the pounding stream of water that broke over his skin and made him feel like he was still, indeed, wrapped deep in his warm quilt. He tilted his head to the left, letting the water fill his ear, hearing the muffled pounding as it continued to rain down from above. He switched to the other ear before tilting his head back up and parting his lips to receive the hot water into his sleep-dry mouth, gargling it noisily and spraying the water out playfully into the tiles. He reached around to grab his toothbrush, knocking the soap to the floor as he did so. Cursing softly he bent to pick it up and cursed again, jumping as his rear end hit the cold tiles behind him. This was already shaping up to be a shitty day.

As he brushed his teeth, eyes closed, leaning his back against the tiles, he heard his alarm clock sound to signal the start of another day and took some measure of satisfaction that he had beaten it up. He had been staying at his apartment in the city for several weeks now, needing to be close to operations as an old case they had worked on had come back to them with new information.

Three months ago, they had been forced to put the case they had been building against crime boss Armando Giorgi aside, as the man had all but disappeared when they had gotten too close to him. Chris had always known that one day Giorgi and his men would get what was coming to them. He had not forgotten what Giorgi's hired man had done to Vin, shooting him in the leg at point blank range. The bastard had gotten off too, had been extradited back to Italy through a team of top-notch lawyers with plenty of powerful people in their pockets.

The more they had discovered about Giorgi, the further his web of underground schemes had developed until it had been a case not destined for the ATF. The family had moved shop, it seemed, or dropped right off the face of the planet, even as Vin had lay recovering out at his ranch with a hole in his leg.

Then from nowhere, a new informant had contacted them and given them everything they had needed to know about Giorgi and his operations. He had tipped them off about a shipment of illegal weapons that had given them their angle back to the case. The old man had refused to move into their protection, however, so they were forced to meet him at his discretion. Now he just had to meet the man one last time before the raid on the shipment he had told them about was to take place tomorrow.

Last night had been a long, drawn out night of debates and thrashing it out with the other teams and departments involved until they were all happy that the bust was going to go down to their satisfaction. He had gotten to bed late only to replay the plan in his mind, over and over until he was sure it was ingrained in his skull.

Still half asleep, perhaps worse off than before he had stepped in the shower, the blonde ATF captain of Team Seven reached around the shower door for his towel, ignoring the water that dripped from his blonde hair, in need of a haircut as it fell across his face and into his eyes. He quickly rubbed himself down, bending forward and rubbing at his hair vigorously. Moisture still clung to his red, hot skin as he wrapped the olive green material around his waist and stepped out of the shower to face the day.

He rubbed a hole in the steamed mirror and looked at his face a moment, his hair now a tousled mess sticking up at odd angles from his scalp. He took in the shadows beneath his red tinged eyes. He had been running in the park most mornings whilst staying in the city, so he was not put out by having to get up early to meet there, but he could really do with a little more sleep this morning. He hoped the short run to the meeting point would help clear his mind for the day ahead as running usually did for him.

As he passed his bed again on the way to his closet, he contemplated the warm covers one last time before his cell phone rang on his bedside table and he grabbed it, digging out clothes as he answered the call.

"Larabee," he said with the small phone held in the crook of his neck awkwardly.

"All ready, Stud?"

"Could go another hour or two's sleep."

"I hear that," Buck said, shivering inside the surveillance van across from the park near Chris's apartment.

"You an' JD set?" Chris asked.

"We got doughnuts, we got coffee, we got –"

"Buck, you in position?"

"Not a metre off," Buck answered, recognising the shortness in Chris's voice and not offended by it. He would be glad when tomorrow was over as well, Chris was getting a little run down, they all needed the break.

"And Vin?"

Buck looked through his side window where Vin had been standing outside a moment before. "He's… umm…"

JD too, craned his neck to see where Vin had gone after he had left the van. He rubbed a hole in the frost on his own side window and jumped back, "Ahhh! Jesus Christ!"

Buck turned and saw Vin's mouth opened up against the outside of JD's window, bigger than a blowfish five minutes out of the water. He chuckled as JD continued to mutter his complaint.

"Junior's just heading into the park now, soon as he unfreeze's his lips from the window."

Chris frowned a little but didn't comment as he pulled a black t- shirt over his head and rummaged for his sweat pants.

"You got the mike working?" Buck asked him as Vin jogged off lightly away from the van.

Chris tugged on his pants, the material clinging to his still moist skin as he pulled them up around his lean waist.

"Yeah, fixed it last night, I don't need the replacement." He bent into his closet and dug out his sneakers. "I'm coming down now."

"See you in a bit."

Chris hung up, pulled on his socks and dialled Vin's number as he shoved his feet into his shoes without bothering to undo the laces. Vin was the third and final member of his team that would be at the meeting that morning. He frowned a little when Vin took a while to answer.

"Chris," came the muffled response.

"What the hell are you doing?" He said as he pinned the small microphone to the inside of his t-shirt collar.

"I'm jogging, the meeting spot wasn't as close as I thought. You might wanna go slow ol' man."

Chris scowled, "I'll give you 'old man' Tanner, I been jogging in that park every Goddamn morning for weeks."

Vin was smiling, Chris could hear it in his voice. "Sheesh, a mite grumpy first up ain't ya?"

Chris smiled, although Vin couldn't see that. The Texan was baiting him, as usual, knowing he was still tired from the long night of meetings before.

"I'll just be glad when tomorrow's over and we're sitting on the haul of the year back at headquarters," he sighed.

"Well, first beers on you, Larabee, I'll be up for it."

Chris grabbed his keys, catching his reflection in the mirror by his door and running his fingers through his still damp hair. "All clear down there?"

Vin reached the meeting spot and eyed the huge population of ducks, which surrounded the entire area where he was to take his position. It was not far from the bench Chris would be meeting their informant at shortly. He was going to run through a sequence of Tai Chi as his cover to watch Chris's back.

"Just me an' the boys here… and I don't reckon these furry critters take too kindly to strangers… In fact…" Vin shifted back slightly from an overly large duck who had its head down as it was moving towards him with hackles raised, "I think one of 'em might be rabid or somethin'!"

Chris frowned, "What the hell are you going on about?"

Vin took another step back, hand reaching towards his gun holster at his ankle. "There's a duck chasin' me, Chris… fuck'n hell…"

Chris laughed, he couldn't help it as he stuck the small earpiece in his ear and fiddled with it a moment, getting it comfortable... "You can take him, Cowboy."

Vin cocked his head at the stealthing puffed up ball of feathers, "I think it's a she…" He lowered his voice, "I think it has teeth."

Still laughing, Chris ignored him. "I'm comin' out now, any sign of him?"

Vin eyed the empty bench across the park lawn again. "Not yet…" He saw an old man approaching down a narrow path of short grass. "Wait, he's comin' in now."

"Alright, hold position, I'll be down in five… and Vin?"

"Yeah?"

"Watch your back."

"I'm watchin' yours today, remember?"

"Just keep an eye out."

"Always… You jog slow, don't wanna do no CPR today."

Chris hung up, muttering "Fuckin' smartass Texan…"

He pocketed his keys as he headed towards the door and left for the park as Vin continued to eye the approaching duck warily, reluctant to turn his back on it.

"So much fer cute an' friendly…"

**3. Please Do Not Feed the Wildlife **

Five minutes later, dressed in his sweats and a black t-shirt that stretched over his muscular chest, Chris left his apartment. He nodded to the surveillance van parked across the street where he knew Buck and JD's eyes would be following him as he crossed over to the park. They would record everything that was relayed to them through his microphone.

"Testing testing," he said softly in a lilting tone when he was in range, his mood lightening a little now that he was up and out in the morning light. Once tomorrow went down, they could all relax for a few days, they deserved it, they'd been working hard to coordinate this investigation. A booming voice came back at him.

"Howdy and good morning! This is Radio Buckville coming to you live in the heart of what's happening here in the roving Buck-mobile and this morning we have… not much happening… We got a lotta frost… its damn cold… some more frost…. ducks, frost and more freakin' ducks." Buck was bored, had been since the donuts had run out five minutes earlier.

"You could have stopped at howdy," Chris said, stopping at the verge of the large parkland and holding his ankle up and behind his knee to stretch out his thigh.

"Can't believe yer complainin'," Vin piped in, receiving Bucks voice loud and clear in his own earpiece. "I'm out here freezin' my fuckin' ass off and yer all cozy, prob'ly finished that whole box a' doughnuts by now…"

Buck looked at JD guiltily.

"… and you wanna see ducks? I got one tryin' ta bite m'frozen balls off with a beak like a Japanese sword."

"Duck beaks aren't sharp," JD put in and Buck appeared to consider this.

"Not sharp my ass!" Vin immediately argued, even as he saw the feathered fiend make another approach, "This one's like a folded 3000 times Japanese Highlander sword fuckin' sharp."

"Better get the gun out, Junior, `there can be only one'," Buck laughed, hearing the normally calm Texan getting upset about an overly friendly duck getting too close for comfort. "You got somethin' against ducks, Vin?"

Vin went silent and Buck looked at JD, grinning. "JD, you think Vin's got a problem with ducks?" Buck would take hold of any opportunity to find a weakness he could exploit.

"Ain't got no problem with – DUCKS! _Dammit!_" came a half yelp. "Jist the feral kind."

Buck laughed, Vin had obviously been rushed by one of the animals. "Mmm... barbecue duck would be nice about now," he thought out loud.

"Those ducks have diseases, Buck," JD said with disgust.

Vin considered the knife around his ankle, looking at the duck a moment as if deciding the best way to carve it up before dismissing the idea and trying another approach. "Whadaya want from me?" he almost pleaded with it, "I ain't got no food, I got nothin' ya want, back off a little will ya? Wait fer Chris, he's got that old, tough skin ya can sharpen that beak on."

"Tanner, shut the fuck up." Chris said, shaking his head as he began a light jog, hearing Buck and JD both laughing and telling Vin to remember that man was the superior creature as he reached the freshly cut grass, which was still well covered in frosty morning dew and enjoying the cool air on his skin, knowing that by the time he got back he would have built up a good light sweat.

"OK, lets do this, I'm heading in, lets stop the chatter… and for the record, I'm the one with the raw deal here, freezing outside AND having to run for my supper."

"Least you'll get warm jogging," Buck pointed out.

"Buck?"

"Uhuh?"

"I get the last word."

"I was just –"

"Buck."

Buck went quiet, grinning but quiet all the same. He waited as Chris headed through the outer park and into the inner, denser spread of grass and trees, towards the small natural lake that resided within.

Chris let his mind clear. There were few people around this time of morning, just a few keen to exercise before another gruelling day in the office. It was normally a peaceful time for him, it allowed him to just focus on the strength of his body and its movement and grace. Today was different though, today he had an agenda. He was confident that this informant was on the level, everything he had told them so far was right on the nose. If everything went to plan, tomorrow's haul would be a great day in the seizure of illegal weapons from trading on US soil.

He was just reaching the meeting point when suddenly a blur came at him from nowhere and knocked him into the ground. He went down in a breathless heap of tangled arms and purple tracksuit.

"What the hell -?"

Chris Larabee was one of the most composed men in the department of the ATF, his control over his emotions was legendary, giving him a reputation as a man who could be cold to those who did not know him well. Yet right now, as he lay with a furry mass of purple material covering his view of the brightening sky, he felt his composure slipping.

"I'm sorry… I didn't mean to… Oh dammit all!"

For an inexplicable reason Chris felt the corner of his mouth tilt as he finally managed to push up on the body on top of him enough to make out the woman's face trying to look anywhere but at him.

"Don't I know you?" he asked the woman who was blushing so profusely it was hard to tell where her tracksuit ended and her skin began.

"Yes.. No.. Definitely no…" she said miserably.

Chris's smile grew. "You work in the mail room."

Pascale's blush grew. He recognised her. She should have been ecstatic, but instead she was mortified that her well thought out plan to "accidentally" meet Chris Larabee out jogging in the park she knew he went to every morning, had turned out so incredibly wrong. Her body was pressed into the hard, long line of the man she had been dreaming about for months now and all she could think about was that she had nearly fractured his spine!

"No, that's someone who just looks a lot like me.."

Chris laughed then and finally she met his eyes.

"Are you ok?" She asked seriously.

Chris noticed Vin walk subtly by in his peripheral vision and indicated with a small gesture of his hand that he was alright as he held the woman's gaze. He flicked his eyes quickly and saw Vin tap his watch as he walked, knowing he was telling him their contact was there.

"Everything's cool," came Vin's voice back to the van and JD and Buck relaxed. "Chris's jist flirtin' with th' girl from the mail room."

"Go stud!" Buck said.

"Buck." Chris said again, despite knowing it would confuse the woman before him.

"Oops."

"What was that?" she asked him.

Chris smiled up at her. "I'm late to meet with a friend - Buck."

"Oh." Reluctantly she pushed up to her feet, standing and admiring the man flat on his back beneath her for a moment before offering him down a hand. Their gazes held, it was a charged moment as Chris finally took the grip of the cool, slight fingers and pushed himself up rather than burden her with his weight. He stood looking at her a moment.

"Guess I'll see you at work," he said with a slight smile. It was a smile that to her seemed like he was holding in all of the secrets of the world.

"I'll try not to trample you in the hallways."

His smiled grew, but became almost contemplative. He turned to leave and stopped, turning back. "I'm Chris," he said, holding his hand out.

"I know," she said, then mentally kicked herself – hard. So much for hard to get! She was planning on aloof, mysterious, now she had not only run him down in broad daylight, she had told him she knew exactly who he was! She offered him her hand and felt the strong grip of his firm fingers around her own. "Pascale."

"That's a beautiful name," he told her.. and she did not miss the seductive note of his voice.

Something possessed her then, the voices of a thousand yearnings in her head perhaps, but she could no longer deny the basic urge that was driving her. She literally threw herself before him, grabbed the back of his neck and gave him an almighty kiss that nearly sent him back to the ground.

"What's that noise?" JD said, listening intently in the van beside Buck.

The next voice heard was Buck's amused yet proud chuckling as he understood completely what that familiar sound was.

Vin, too, was grinning as he resumed his position by the lake, overlooking the old man now seated at the bench.

"That's Chris gettin' the last word," The Texan laughed.

Feeling like the eyes of his team were right beside him Chris pulled back, reluctant as he was to stop the encounter. "That was... a surprise," he said, smiling down at her.

"I would explain... but I have no idea how to," she said, torn between complete bliss and total embarrassment.

"Maybe you can explain to me over dinner."

She smiled then, "I'd like that."

Chris held her gaze another moment, "I really have to go... see you soon," he told her, as he turned and resumed his jog, heading towards the direction Vin had gone.

Pascale watched him go, heart still racing. See you at work… Oh boy would she see him at work, not exactly the way she had imagined it, but just wait until the girls heard about this! She actually laughed out loud, stopping just short of clapping her hands and then quickly looking around to see if anyone had seen her.

..

Old Man Carlos smiled as he tore another piece of bread from the large loaf in his lap and threw it to the ducks gathered around him in a noisy pack. The bench he was seated at overlooked the somewhat murky lake, right beneath a large sign that read "Please Do NOT Feed The Wildlife."

He was happy, as always, that he was giving the park's residents a good feed. To hell with the bastards that thought they could stop something he had been doing since before they were even born. It wasn't that soft, crappy sliced bread, either. This was the good, Italian stuff that could break your teeth with its outer crust, not that Carlos could eat the crust any more since he'd lost most of his teeth over the years. He was now reduced to cutting the thick crust off with a knife and eating the softer bread inside but still, he would not compromise on his bread, even if he had to eat it like the ducks did, soaking it first in the water before they wolfed it down.

Every day Carlos came to the same bench in the same park, had done for many a year. It wasn't a particularly smart thing to do in his line of business, especially if you wanted to avoid a potential assassin from knowing your routine, but he did it anyway. He had always dreamt that one day he would have his own big property and his own small lake of ducks to feed, but that had never happened… And as he approached eighty, he now knew it was a dream not to be had.

He had worked for the Giorgi family for most of his life. Pedro Giorgi had taken him on as a package boy when he was only thirteen and it had seemed that his career was going to be a big one… Yet as Pedro had gotten older, so had Carlos, and in time he had found himself working for Pedro's son, Michael… then Armando… Where had his life gone? He had come to realise, after too many years of hoping, that either you were in the family, or you were not.. and with Italians, blood was everything.. and his might as well have been green.

Still, he had been loyal… until he had discovered that a man only brought into the family a year ago was about to step up the ranks ahead of him, then he had decided enough was enough and had finally lost it. He'd been passed over for years, always patiently waiting, trying to please, finally resigned to his place in the world. Well there would be no more of that. He was going to burn the bastards. He'd show them his smarts, not to take him for granted, that was for sure!

Throwing out another scrap of bread to the eager creatures his eye caught sight of a young man performing graceful movements a good distance away on the grass. He didn't understand all of that yuppie oriental stuff people got into. Still, if that's what that boy was doing to keep in shape, he had to give him credit, he looked like a fit bastard. Suddenly he frowned as the long-haired man stopped his smooth movements abruptly and kicked out at something on the ground. A duck squawked in protest and Carlos got to his feet in outrage. No respect for nature these kids! He was about to shout out across the distance when there was another disturbance of ducks on his right and he turned to see the ATF Captain he had met several times before approaching him casually, gesturing for him to retake his seat on the bench.

"Larabee. You are late," he said in his usual gruff voice.

Chris tore his gaze from the site of Vin kicking out at a duck and rested a foot on the bench casually, leaning on his knee as he spoke to Carlos, knowing he wasn't late but apologising anyway.

"Carlos, my apologies, I was unavoidably detained."

When he flicked his eyes to Vin again he was apparently again in control and engrossed in his movements, but Chris knew better. Vin's keen eye knew every move that he made and he knew that his hand would not stray far from the gun that he had concealed.

"Tell me everything's still good," Chris continued as he met the calculating eyes looking up at him.

Casually, Carlos tossed another piece of bread. "Si, everything good."

"And you know which dock it will be?" Chris wanted to confirm.

"Si," he said again. "The shipment come same'a time. Dock number four."

Chris nodded, that is what they had needed to know. "You're sure its number four?"

Again Carlos nodded. "I am sure. He bring nearly fifteen men."

Chris frowned. "Why so many?"

"There are more weapons now... and he do not trust the supplier."

"Because he's new?"

"Because he's Abrusezzi."

Chris raised an eyebrow in question.

"He no like the Abrusezzi people."

Chris had no idea what an `Abrusezzi' person was, he assumed it meant a different part of Italy. "Then why is he dealing with him?" he asked.

"He have no choice. He need the guns quickly, this was the only way."

"And Giorgi will be there himself? You're sure?"

Carlos nodded, his eyes going hard. "The sonofabitch – he no miss this."

"Good." Chris was quiet a moment, again studying Vin's relaxed and slow movements. He had only seen him going through his moves once before and it was a peaceful sight. Vin seemed completely absorbed and in sync with the movements of his body. Not for the first time, he thought about getting him to teach him. God knows he needed a little chill time to himself. He bent to retie an errant shoelace, ready to go.

Carlos was watching a duck heading towards them, something stuck in its beak. He frowned as it got closer, trying to make out what it was, noting how painfully thin the animal was.

"Somebody feed him food that no good," he told Chris's bent head, nodding at the duck.

Chris turned his head to look at the skinny, approaching creature and squinted at the black fur in its mouth, trying to make out what it was.

"Heard the ducks are a bit nasty round these parts," Chris said, smiling as he took his foot down and turned to leave, glancing once more in Vin's direction as he did so.

Vin looked up as he saw Chris taking his leave and could not describe the sense of alarm that ran through him. As Larabee looked at him across the distance, something was terribly wrong.

Chris paused as he turned, his eyes still facing Vin's. He could not read his expression across the distance, but there was… something... in his stance, a tension that was not there a moment ago. He looked again at Carlos who was still studying the duck, trying to cajole him closer to see what was in his beak.

"I'll be in touch," Chris said, feeling the need to get out of there quickly. He began to walk off slowly.

Carlos flicked the retreating man a brief look then reached forward to the duck.

"Venicca bella, venicca…" He beckoned, patiently allowing it to come closer, his heart tightening at the sight of the half starved animal. Finally within his arms reach, he leant forward and snatched the object from its beak, having to yank it hard to get it free for it had been well stuck. He broke it off some bread in compensation and looked at the small toy in his hands and laughed, calling out to Chris who was already a good ten feet away.

"Look, you were right, I think she steel this thing!"

Chris turned back around and saw Carlos holding up a small fury object in his hands. Squinting, he made out the form of a monkey and watched as Carlos turned it on and its hands began to open and close, clanging little symbols together. He gave the older man a small smile to humour him before he turned to walk off once more.

Carlos continued to smile at the toy, delighted that it worked and placed it on the bench Larabee had just vacated, watching as the little symbols opened and closed in the little hands.

Chris had gotten only three steps further when the explosion rocked the earth. The force of it centred around the bench, but reached him easily in its heated grasp. Instantly, splintered wood from the bench sprayed out and collected him with the burning spray of flame that knocked him to the ground and sent him hammering helplessly into the trunk of a thick tree.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 4. Down With The Culled**

Vin had been relieved to see Chris leaving the old man to his toy and had bent down only a moment to grab his discarded jacket when the explosion had thundered out. He felt the force of it, even from the distance he stood and watched with absolute horror, his best friend be thrown like a rag doll through the air, thudding into a tree before lying still beneath its low, scorched branches. In hideous fascination he watched a rain of burnt feathers fall to the ground and began moving, his mind desperate to work in focus and was shouting orders in the next instant and sprinting for all he was worth.

"JD! Call an ambulance, Chris is down! Wait there to direct it in and call for backup - and we need the explosives team down here. Someone's just taken out Carlos, whoever did it got in close, he's gotta be around here."

He ran harder than he ever had in his life, jumping a stack of shrubs without breaking stride and still Vin felt like he was trapped on a slow-moving travelator. He scanned the flaming grass for a sign of the old man as he headed towards Chris, knowing that there would not be one.

Buck and JD had heard the explosion then seen a ball of yellow clear the treetops from within the park.

"See that?" JD said, already out of the car and heading in as Vin's shout came through to them. He halted in his tracks as he heard his instructions. Dammit!

Buck climbed out the driver's side and called to JD, "Keep an eye out JD, the bastard could be anywhere," before he took off towards the direction of the explosion, gun out and looking for anything that moved.

As JD waited impatiently by the van he scanned the area, arm hovering over his holster, eyes darting every which way. He could see as far as the coffee shop up the street, across the road, but could not make out the lone man sitting quietly watching the replay of yet another success on a small, hand-held screen. The tiny camera he had placed in the monkey's eye had given him a perfectly clear, focused visual feed as the old man had grinned at the toy like a fool, right up until he had been engulfed in a fiery ball of death.

..

The Ginger Man sipped on his ice coffee and played the digital view again, going back this time to where the monkey had been held in the air and he could see a blonde man standing before him, looking at him a moment before the toy was put on the bench. There was something familiar about that man… Something… He played that part again, pausing it on the man and wanting to get back to his apartment and enlarge the view. He was obviously the agent that Carlos had been meeting on the sly, the reason Giorgi had ordered him taken out… but there was something else about him he could not place. As the waitress walked past he signalled for his cheque and smiled, another day another death… and the sun was still low across the awakening city.

Vin reached Chris only a moment later, dropping heavily to his knees beside him in the blackened grass and seeing immediately that he was unconscious. He checked his pulse as he leant down to listen for his breathing, relieved when both seemed ok but listening a moment longer to be sure.

"Dammit Larabee, I told ya I didn't wanna do no CPR," he said, sitting up a little and looking to the blonde head for sign of an injury.

"Didn't say... not to get blown up…" Chris whispered painfully.

Vin jerked up, looking down at the dazed green eyes beneath him with relief. "Jesus you nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Sorry…" was the weak reply.

"Talk to me, Vin, what's going on?" Buck said as he got closer to them.

"Chris just came to, must've hit his head in the explosion."

He found the already swelling lump on the back of Chris's skull and cursed, continuing to look for further injuries while Chris closed his eyes again. He did not want to move him but suspected his back would have caught the brunt of the blast. As he ran his hands down Chris's sides he found the broken ribs at the same second Chris gasped and pulled away.

"You hurt anywhere else?"

Chris did a mental check as best he could through a fog in his brain that seemed to lift and descend constantly, giving him a clear line of thought one second and total confusion the next.

"Think… just the ribs…"

"Looks like yer head got the worst of it." Vin said, checking the wound again before leaning back on his knees a little, studying Chris's face. "Ya know what day it is?"

"D-day."

Vin grinned, "Close enough."

Chris closed his eyes again. Thinking was becoming harder and he was beginning to feel an intense pounding start behind his eyes. Buck came sprinting across the narrow path towards them at a rapid rate.

"What the hell happened?" he shouted as he reached them, stopping a moment later before them and bending forward to catch his breath, noticing a fallen, tattered sign by his feet that read "Please Do NOT Feed the Wildlife."

"A bomb. You see anyone hanging around? Whoever planted it got right up close." Vin told him, still looking at Chris who was still trying to focus his eyes.

"Nope…" Buck looked around briefly then caught Vin's eye, "The old man?"

Vin looked back at the incinerated bench. "Dead."

"Anyone else?"

Vin scanned the torn ground around them, knowing all too well what the scatterings of burnt flesh and feathers were. The old man had been completely surrounded by them. "Just half the duck population of Denver."

Buck raised an eyebrow at that and began to put together what most of the carnage was.

"Ya said ya wanted barbecued duck."

Buck's eyes shot to Vin's and widened at the grin he saw there. Damn that Tanner humour... "That's disgusting."

"Carlos?" Chris asked, moving his head to see and groaning when the movement make his head spin.

"Stay still, Chris," Vin said, putting a hand to his chest to restrain him. "He's dead."

"Dammit," was the soft curse.

"I'm gonna look around," Vin said, pushing up to stand.

"Vin."

Vin stopped and looked back down.

"Where's Carlos?"

Vin frowned and looked up at Buck before taking in the unfocused green eyes again. "He's dead, Pard."

Chris felt his brain swelling inside his skull. It seemed to be growing at a rapid rate, pushing out from behind his eyes. He winced and closed them, trying to keep them from popping out. He couldn't think any more. Didn't know who was beside him... and he did not like the feeling one bit. "What… happened?"

"Jesus…" Buck said, "JD where's that ambulance?"

"I can hear it, Buck, but can't see it yet."

"Take it easy there, Pard, ya just got blown ta hell." Vin said, squeezing Chris's arm gently, seeing his confusion tinged with a slight fear. Chris was a man always in control, Vin knew he would not relax easily.

Chris blinked and focused on Vin's face looking down at him, confused. "From… the mail room?"

Vin smiled, knowing he was thinking of the woman he had bumped into a moment before. "Not likely, Cowboy, purple ain't my colour."

Chris blinked again and Vin spoke assuredly, trying to overcome his concern to do what was needed. "Take it easy, Chris. Jist give yerself a minute. Relax, stop thinkin' so much."

Chris closed his eyes and took Vin's advice. He was trying to place his shattered thoughts together all at once and it wasn't working.

"That's it, just breath nice an' easy, concentrate on that ok?"

Chris did as Vin instructed, taking a few calming breaths, focusing on the sound the air made in his chest until he felt the fog lift slightly in his brain. Then he was struggling to get up.

"Woah! I said nice an' easy!" Vin held him still, not wanting him to move until the paramedics arrived.

Still, Chris tried to get away from the pushing hands.

"Stay put will ya?"

"I'm fine, let me up."

"Sure you are," Vin needed to use both hands to hold him down. Chris was moving his head freely which was a relief, he had feared a neck injury when he had seen him laying there a moment before, unmoving.

Buck moved in to help and Chris struggled harder to get up.

"Dammit Larabee! Will ya stay put?"

Chris grabbed his neck as he managed to eye the spot Carlos had just been sitting a moment before, Vin's hands gripping his arms in support.

"Sonofabitch… monkey…" he said softly and silently pitched forward into Vin's grasp.

"Chris!… Fuck…" Vin held Chris upright a moment and then Buck helped him lay him back down on the grass, checking the wound on the back of his head again, finding that the bump had swollen already.

"Damn…"

Vin looked up at Buck. "He hit his head pretty good on that tree," he nodded to the thick tree beside them and then stood up. "Wait with him, I'm gonna check the area."

He was moving off when Buck spoke. "Whoever did this'll be long gone by now."

Vin didn't turn, just picked up his pace as he jogged off.

Buck knelt beside Chris and checked his head for himself, finding the injury easily and concerned by the size of the swelling. Chris moaned and began to open his eyes again.

"Take it easy there Chris, help's comin'."

Chris blinked and tried to look sideways up at Buck. The motion made his head spin violently and he felt himself swallowing. Buck noticed the sudden pallor of his skin and tilted him over to allow him to throw up. On a groan Chris managed only to expel the water he had swallowed in the shower, there was nothing else in his stomach. He groaned as broken bones moved and grated within his chest, causing him to return to his back and lie as still as possible.

Buck was eyeing the still flaming particles of bench and scorched grass. "Guess our secret informant weren't so secret," he said thoughtfully.

Chris said nothing, just open his eyes and narrowed them at the spot Carlos had been sitting a moment before. His mind cleared again briefly and he realised that everything the old man had told him was now in question. They could have been leaking information to them through him for months… Damn…

"Vin?" he asked, closing his eyes again, feeling drowsy and ill.

"Gone to look around, he'll be back in a sec."

"Man my head hurts…" Chris whispered softly and squeezed his eyes as the pressure again built behind them.

Buck frowned down at the head of too long blonde hair. Head injuries could be serious and this one was already showing the signs of being a bad one. "Yer heads too hard to cave in over an old tree like that." Even as he eyed the sturdy, hard trunk beside them again, Buck heard the doubt in his own voice.

..

**5. The Greater Victim**

Vin took off through the park, scowling as he saw the duck that had been stalking him earlier. "Trust you to survive that," he growled at it as he continued on, taking in every detail as he ran towards the road. He had not wanted to leave Chris like that, but he knew that a hot trail was the best chance they had and there was always the possibility that the person responsible for the killing would stick around to enjoy the result. He saw JD standing by the van and could hear the ambulance and police sirens closing in.

"See anything, JD?"

"Nothing."

He stood still for a moment, scanning the street, seeing the people that were starting to come out of the woodwork to see what all the noise was about. For a moment he felt disconnected and numb as he watched the world go by, totally oblivious to the fact that he had almost just lost his best friend. There was a small coffee shop up the road and he could see a man sitting outside, even from that distance, but could not make out anything more. It was a cool morning to be sitting outside drinking coffee, he thought.

His sharp blue eyes moved back towards the park and stopped on a woman at the side of the road with a pram, not far from the coffee shop. Again, it was a mite cool to be out with a baby and early as well. It was something and worth a closer look. He started to cross the street, eyeing the café again, eyes stopping as the man alone at the table looked up briefly from his newspaper, his dark glasses hiding his eyes and his orange hair seeming to pick up the hues of the rising sun.

As the ambulance pulled in, JD saw Vin crossing the street, wondering where he was going, ready to back him up if he needed it. He saw the Texan reach the other side and approach a woman with a pram. What the hell was he doing? As Vin got closer JD saw the woman turn at the last moment to face him and his heart leapt to his throat, the woman looked like she was holding a gun - and pointing it right at Vin!

Vin's reflexes took over as he saw the gun aimed at his chest and he dove to his right, not thinking, purely reacting at that point. He felt the all too familiar sting as it grazed the flesh of his upper arm and then he was up, own gun held straight, aimed at the woman.

"Stop, I'm an ATF agent," he told her.

He noticed the poor quality and unkempt appearance of her clothes, the lines of weariness around her eyes, the unsure chewing of her bottom lip. This woman was desperate. He heard the baby begin to cry, until that point he had not been sure there even was a baby. The gun in her hand shook, he saw the determination in her eyes, but he also saw the slight indecision. Her finger repositioned itself over the trigger.

"This doesn't have to end bad," he said in a calm, controlled voice.

Vanessa Stetson weighed up her options. The orange haired man had given her five hundred dollars to simply carry his pet duck into the park in her pram, a toy secured to its beak and let it out near an old man through some scrub near the lake. It had all seemed too easy and she had known in her heart that she was doing something wrong. It was in the man's eyes as he had told her what to do, in his cruel smile. Still, five hundred dollars would turn her life around and at that point, when he had seen her in the park the day before, that had been an offer too good to refuse.

She had returned and left the weak looking duck just as he had asked her to, giving it an encouraging push towards the old man offering food and as she had walked off, she had heard the explosion a few moments later and had known she had done something terribly wrong. She had brought the gun that was once her husbands with her, although she had never before touched it. Something had told her to bring it that day and it was the same voice that was telling her now that this day would be like no other in her life, that things would never be the same again.

She looked down at Dillon, her love, the only light in her life and felt tears gather with surprising force. She had not cried in a long time. She had done it for him… and now she would go to prison and never see him. She did not want him growing up with her in prison, she wanted more for him. She looked up at the man she had nearly killed.

"You're a cop?"

Vin nodded, "ATF Ma'am… put the gun down now, ok?"

Vanessa nodded to the pram. "There's money in there… it's his."

Vin nodded, trying to reach out to her with his calming eyes and strong voice. "Sure thing, I won't let anyone touch it," he assured her.

She nodded again. "It's HIS," she said again firmly, her voice rising a notch and again Vin nodded, wondering at her mental stability. He had to get the gun away from her.

"No problem. The money belongs to yer baby. Just put the gun down now ok?"

Her hand shook again. "He needs a good home…"

Vin's heart picked up its pace as he realised where she was going with this. "He needs his _mother_…"

Again the woman looked back down at the baby, her gun still aimed at Vin. She kissed her fingers and placed them on the baby's tiny pink lips as he quieted and looked up at her with wide, innocent eyes of the bluest sky.

"Ma'am?" Vin said. "Ma'am give me that gun now, ok? I'll help you, you and yer baby. This ain't as hopeless as it seems, I promise."

For a second he'd thought he'd touched something in her as her eyes focused on his.

"Knew it was wrong… knew the monkey was bad…"

Vin's jaw tightened, so she _had_ been involved. He was about to ask her who had given it to her when she spoke again.

"Will you save my baby?"

Vin blinked. What the hell was she thinking? "Of course." He tensed, she was getting ready to do something, he could see the finality in her eyes.

Vanessa saw the truck approaching up the quiet street and waited a moment more. Sure the man would do just as she hoped, she finally gave the pram a shove with her free hand and saw her baby heading out into the street, in front of the approaching truck.

"What the - Jesus _Christ_!" Vin eyed the woman a split second longer to determine she was not going to shoot him if he moved, before he darted out to stop the pram. Just as he grabbed it and tugged it back towards the curb, the truck compressing its breaks as it came to a sudden stop, he heard a second gunshot and whirled to see the woman crumple to the street, his eyes screaming their protest at the whole futility of the situation as he looked down to the pool of blood spreading out beneath the woman's dirty, tangled hair.

The baby's loud wailing drew his attention back down and he saw glimpses of blue eyes through a scrumpled, red face, limbs kicking wildly beneath a thin, dirty blanket. The Texan's throat tightened as he reached out a hand toward the orphaned child, now alone in a world that would not alter its blinding pace for anyone, he knew. In a strange moment, the baby quieted and sky blue eyes were mirrored by his own, before the tiny face again howled in distress. Sometimes, he did not understand the world he lived in, not at all.

..

The Ginger man grinned with satisfaction as he saw the woman take her own life. If the junkie bitch had been caught, he would have had to kill her himself, this had been very tidy and saved him much effort. When he had approached her, he had worried that the imbalanced look about her might fail him in what he wanted her to do, but her desperation had won out and she had done her job well… and now she had tied off his only loose end. He could not have planned it better.

He stood slowly and folded his paper beneath his arm, whistling through his teeth as he left his money on the table and left the café in the opposite direction to the noise of the emergency vehicles that were fast pulling up to surround the park.

..

**6.** **The 'Man' Is Crumbs**

Room 404 was dimly lit, the sole patient inside quietly asleep as he had been since he had been admitted an hour before. Initial tests had not revealed any damage to his skull or internal bleeding, but he had been ordered complete rest under observation.

Vin stood perfectly still within the quiet room, oblivious to the muffled noises that came from beyond the doorway. He knew this hospital too well, as did all of the team, but he would rather it was he in the hospital bed recovering than any of the others. It was his job to watch their backs, to make sure that there were no surprises to catch them unawares. He had failed this morning, failed Chris terribly to warn him in time of the danger that he had felt suddenly coming toward him… and now all he could do was stand vigil by his bedside, feeling guilt and worry wash over him again as he took in the dark bruising around the closed eyes that were unable to focus clearly when they did manage to open.

He saw Chris's lids flutter again and did not move this time, hoping he would fall back asleep. He did not think he could explain to him yet why everything had gone so wrong.

There was a soft knock on the door and Buck entered silently.

"How's he doing?"

Vin had not spoken for near on an hour and his throat was dry as he answered, still looking at Chris, relieved that he seemed to be sleeping again. "Same. He woke fer a bit, still confused…"

Buck saw the guilt riding Vin's clear blue eyes and frowned. "Wasn't your fault, Vin."

Vin did not look at him. "Shoulda seen it comin'." He looked up then, "Shoulda followed my gut. I _knew _ somethin' was up."

"That was a damn sneaky cowards way of killin' someone, sendin' some animal that don't think in ta do the dirty work. That poor thing was a suicide bomb and didn't even know it, which is a step above the fucking human assholes that do it willingly," he added as an afterthought.

"Those fanatical pricks got about as much thought process as ducks anyways." Vin added.

Buck smiled grimly, "Ain't that the truth... But you can't predict what every crazy is gonna do, we all know the risks, we know you watch our backs better'n anyone else, there's no one else we'd rather have there doin' the job and there's not a man coulda stopped that nutter from taking out Carlos today, not with all the premeditated work that went into it. Chris knows the score, every day we put ourselves at risk. Don't let him hear you blamin' yourself for this."

Vin met Buck's gaze again and this time his eyes were hard, uncompromising. "I want this prick, Buck."

Buck smiled and reached out to slap Vin on the back affectionately, "Now that's more like it. That's what I came to find you about." He noticed Vin wince and remembered his injured arm. "Shit, sorry. How is it?" he asked him, he had forgotten about the bullet wound that Vin had concealed beneath the open shirt he now wore over his t-shirt.

"Fine, I'm lucky she was shakin' so bad she missed."

"Wouldn't call that a miss, exactly." They were quiet a moment before Buck continued. "The explosives team have already concluded this is the same man responsible for several other assassinations not only here, but nation wide. We're on the case as of now and we can still work on Giorgi, that sonofabitch sure knows who he hired to do this."

This was good news, he was going to put time into finding the bastard anyway, but now they could do it in an official capacity.

"Remember that Judge that got taken out by a wind-up mouse last year?"

Vin nodded, "Same guy?"

"They think so… and another thing, he was the Judge presiding over a small case relating to one Armando Giorgi."

Vin's eyebrows rose in surprise.

"He rejected the appeal Armando's lawyers made and rumour has it, refused to be bribed. He was dead three days later and the case went to another Judge. They couldn't find any evidence to link Armando to the killing, the next Judge accepted the appeal and the case was eventually thrown out."

Vin whistled. "Slippery bastard… So he's used this guy before."

Again Buck nodded. "This guy is famous in the explosive's field. There's a file of unsolved cases a mile long pointing at him. Our own explosive's task force have been after him for years."

"They got a description of this guy? Fuck, he could've left the country by now."

"That's the thing, they seem to think he doesn't move around much at all. His work is so clean, so untraceable, he has no need to relocate himself and most of his smaller work has been close to the city. I haven't heard if there's a description on him yet, JD and Ez are already looking into him."

"Alright, I'm gonna head back to the office for a while then, you staying here fer a bit?"

Buck nodded. "Thought I'd give you a chance to head in, knew you'd want to after you heard the news. My cars on the second level."

Vin went back into Chris's room before he left, standing by his bed and taking his cool hand briefly. _'You rest easy now, Cowboy, I'll be back with good news.' _

Chris did not awaken, but Vin felt a slight movement in the hand beneath his own. He left quietly, wanting to have as many answers as he could for Chris before he was lucid enough to start asking them.

..

The Ginger Man popped a dark candy in his mouth and stared at the large, paused screen before him, not moving an inch on the soft, plush white couch. He had enlarged the camera feed and now had a clear view of the ATF agent he had injured in the park. He knew he had injured him purely by the distance he was standing only moments before the explosion, but he had not killed him, he knew that, for he knew his explosives well.

Suddenly he pushed up out of his chair and headed for his files. He knew that face, he knew that face… absently he tapped the top of the filing cabinet, thinking a moment before he reached down and pulled out the second drawer. He skimmed through the alphabetical files, J; K; L… He pulled out the folder marked "L" and took it with him to his computer, dumping the solitary CD case out into his hand and eyeing the plastic cover a moment. The gold CD shone in the light as he took it out, handling it carefully as put it in his CD drive. His mind was like an endless filing cabinet itself and never had it failed him yet. This mystery was perturbing to him, but he would work it out soon enough, of that he was confident.

..

By the time Vin entered the office, the investigation was well under way to find out who the mystery bomber was. JD informed him that three members of the ATF's specialised explosives task force would be arriving soon from the Chicago Field Division to talk to them and work with them on the case. Ezra had gone with Josiah to speak to a widow whose late husband was thought to have been murdered by the same assassin two years before. She had already been questioned thoroughly after the event, but they hoped there could be something originally missed. Nathan was still at the scene, trying to find out what they had discovered about the device itself other than their initial findings.

"How much do we know about this person?" Vin asked JD as he walked to his desk, "Other than that they think he lives locally."

JD did not look up from his screen as he answered, if he lost his train of thought for too long, he would have a hard time remembering the trail he had taken to get to the files he was currently delving into. "There's not a lot. No physical descriptions, no eyewitnesses. Only his style and unique devices tie his work together. The only time an informant came forward with information, she was killed before they had a chance to question her, a bomb in the police car that was escorting her under their protection."

Vin shook his head as he flicked through his in-tray of mail.

"The best lead they had was a politician's wife, who said that there was a thin man of average height hanging around her house a few days prior to the explosion that took out her husband in their den. She said she noticed him walk by twice because he had a high-necked sweater on and she thought it was a bit warm for that, but he was wearing a hat and dark glasses and she couldn't tell much else about him. She thought she even saw him when the emergency crews had moved in to seal the area."

Vin had stopped to look at JD in thought as he gave him the information, something he'd said triggering a memory as the office doors opened and Nathan walked in ahead of what he assumed were the ATF agents they were expecting.

"Vin this is Agent Moriss, Tucker and Bryant of the National Explosives Task Force," Vin shook their hands in turn. "This is Agent Tanner," Nathan pointed towards JD who stood and moved to also shake their hands, "and Agent Dunne."

Moriss addressed Vin, "Agent Tanner… you're the sharpshooter we hear so much about. It's a pleasure to meet you."

The statement was polite, merely one of fact. Vin smiled briefly, "That depends on what you hear."

Moriss smiled, "Only good things. I'm sorry to hear about your Captain, Larabee's a well respected man."

Vin nodded and shared a glance with Nathan, wishing Chris were around to handle the situation. "He'll be ok in a few days." His eyes glinted in the light. "Let's just make sure we get this sonofabitch."

Moriss nodded. "This is a good lead and believe me, I've been assigned to this case for over a year now, there's nothing I'd like better than to get this prick."

"Are you boys ready to go over this, did you catch breakfast?" Nathan asked them.

Tucker rubbed his stomach idly, "Unfortunately, we ate on the plane, we're ready to get started if you are."

Vin indicated the meeting room, "This way." He looked back at JD, "When's Ez and Josiah due back?"

"I do believe I can hear the mispronunciation of my name."

Vin grinned at Ezra as he came through the doors with Josiah just at that moment. "Nice timin' fella's. We're about to have a meeting with the Explosives boys, you comin' JD?"

As they filed into the meeting room Nathan rounded on Vin. "Hows your arm?"

"Got it seen to Nate, it's just a scratch." At Nathan's disbelieving look he smiled and flexed his arm, "Honest ta God, this time I ain't lyin'."

"You were injured today, Agent Tanner?" Moriss asked, "I was not aware of that."

Vin took a seat, throwing Nathan a dirty look. "Just a scratch, the woman who…" Vin hesitated, disturbed by the morning's events and struggling to put them into words, "took her life, got a shot off first, just a graze."

Moriss nodded, "I was briefed about the woman, the report failed to mention her firing a shot, though. This is the second time we know of where he has used a third party to aid in his plan."

They each seated themselves and began going through all of the information they had on each of the cases linked to the assassin, the three Agents trying to build a profile of the man from what they new. Photo's were produced of aftermaths of bombings, lists of people targeted, until all felt numb over the sheer extent of the man's killing spree.

"The only physical description we have is of a thin man of average height," Josiah told the three agents. He looked to his own team then, "The politician's wife Ezra and I visited did not have anything new to add to her original statement."

"Unfortunately this guy is almost invisible. No-one has ever seen him or spoken to him in person," Tucker said.

"I've been delving around case files today, seems he has a bit of a reputation online amongst explosives enthusiasts," JD said.

Bryant added, "There is information from the FBI's online investigation team, that links to the activities of a person who calls himself the 'Ginger Man'."

JD's head snapped up at that. "I read something about him only an hour ago when I was searching. He's something of a legend to certain communities."

Bryant nodded. "There's nothing more than rumours and links which discuss a man by this name and relate him to several bombings around the country. He's considered an online myth, but there is always the possibility that there is truth to the rumours. The information is all totally unsubstantiated, but not something we have totally ruled out. The internet is monitored closely for any mention of his name but so far has not turned up anything concrete."

They were all flicking through photographs laid out in piles on the large table as Josiah asked Vin quietly, "You ok, Vin?"

Vin looked up from where he had been holding his head in his hands, head down and thinking. "Fine… somethin' 'bout the name… Ginger Man…," his eyes narrowed in thought again as JD spoke.

"What the hell is this?"

Bryant leant towards JD beside him and looked at the photograph he was referring to.

"A hand, inside a glove," he informed him grimly. They were used to the site of these case photo's, but this was new to the Denver Team.

"Where's the arm?" JD looked sideways at the photo, "It's untouched," he remarked.

"That was pried from a golf club," Moriss told them, "the victim was blown up the instant his club hit the ball on the first tee of the day, the club was found almost a hundred metres away, the hand still attached to the grip inside the glove. Took out three interstate political delegates in the one hit."

JD's face screwed up in disgust and the rest of Team Seven remained quiet, absorbing as much information about the man they were after as possible.

"Does he usually work alone?" Vin asked, studying several shots of crowds gathered behind police tape at a devastated building. "You mentioned he has used a third party before."

"Usually he does. You have probably heard of the case of Judge Walters, that happened right here in your city, where he used a woman to let a bomb rigged to a wind-up mouse loose in the courtroom. She was caught fleeing the courthouse, but like I said earlier, she was taken out by the car bomb in the squad car." Moriss looked at Vin. "It's likely that if that woman today had not killed herself, he would have taken her out anyway before she could talk to anyone."

Vin looked down again, he was not ready to replay that little scenario in his head yet. The picture of innocent, crying blue eyes was still strong in his mind. Even as the child had been taken away, finally quiet as it was soothed in a paramedic's arms, his throat had still been tight with emotion. "Well, he didn't have to worry about taking her out," he said quietly, studying the photo that was on the table directly below his head.

"How does he know the woman did not talk to you before she took her own life?" Ezra asked Vin then and they all looked at him.

"You mean he might try and kill Vin, thinking the woman gave him a description?" JD asked.

"It would be too late for that, if he knew Agent Tanner knew, he would have eliminated him by now," Tucker said.

"Exactly," Josiah said, Ezra's question stirring up more in his mind. "This is a man who doesn't leave loose ends. He would have made sure that woman was not going to tell anyone, but he could not predict her suicide, or her talking to Vin… The only way he could know that she killed herself before she said anything to anyone, was if he was watching her…"

They all looked back at Vin then. After the initial explosion the events had flown past in a blur as he had run through the park and then stopped the woman on the street. The morning had been so crazy he had yet to sit and rethink his actions completely, or replay the events thoroughly in his mind. He dropped his head forward, elbows on the table and hands massaging the back of his neck where his hair fell away across his face. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He saw again Chris hitting the tree with a sickening impact and fought to move on from the image… He saw JD at the van, the people coming out onto the street, heard the sirens, felt the charge of adrenaline again move through his body… He saw the coffee shop, the woman with the pram, the coffee shop… the man with the newspaper, saw him look up, the orange hair…"

"What was it the politician's wife said about seeing the man wearing a sweater?" He asked the group.

"She said she noticed a man of average height and build pass her street twice and believes she may have again witnessed him after the event. According to her statement, it was his high-necked sweater that led her to notice him as she considered the weather to be too warm to warrant such clothing," Ezra answered.

Vin looked up and took his hands from his neck, a picture suddenly forming and taking hold in his mind, as clear as his clear blue eyes. He stared straight ahead as he again pictured the whole scene in his mind. His voice was low, disbelieving as a realisation began to form. "Mother_fucker_…" he whispered in a drawn out breath as they watched him intently, leaning forward to hear his muttered curse. Suddenly he slammed his open hands on the table with enough force that they all jumped slightly in their seats, watching as he stood abruptly and cursed again, louder this time. "Sonofa_bitch_!"

"What is it, Vin, you remember something from this morning?"

Vin looked at Josiah, thankful someone had pulled him up from the rage that was starting to build. "He was right there, Josiah! The motherfucker was sitting right there! He looked right at me!" He slammed a hand on the table again, "Damn the prick, he looked right at me!"

Moriss got to his feet to, but unlike Vin he was not angry, he was trying to calm his rising excitement. "What makes you think it was him?"

Vin swung to face him. "The high necked sweater, the dark glasses, the bright 'ginger' hair..." he said with certainty, _"Damn it!" _

"Holy shit…" JD swore in disbelief.

"Why the hell didn't I go to him instead of her? I was thinking it was too cold to be out having a coffee that time of morning and I passed him over for her I coulda had him right there!"

"Mr Tanner, anyone up and about at that Godforsaken hour is acting suspiciously, you could not possibly have detained them all at once."

Nathan shook his head, "Only in comparison to your lazy hide, Ezra."

"I resent that, Mr Jackson."

"Agent Tanner, do not sell yourself short. I do believe you have just given us the first physical description of our culprit, no-one else has managed to achieve so much, especially in one day. A less observant man would have missed him altogether," Moriss told Vin with a giant grin that he was unable to control.

"I missed him," JD said then in disbelief, "I was standing in the same street. I didn't even see him when Vin approached the lady," JD said, still not believing Vin had seen him right there before them.

"That's why Vin's our sharpshooter, JD," Josiah said with a slight smile.

Bryant and Tucker too, were excited. "I can't believe it, this is finally our break, this is more information than we've got all year," Tucker said.

Vin held Moriss's look a moment and then looked at Tucker, his eyes hard. "This time he's fucked with the wrong people, that's his first mistake."

..

Newton smiled as he leant back in his chair before his computer screen. Taking up the entire panel was a photo he had not looked at in years, a very early case that had bothered him for a long time afterward, for he had failed to take out his intended mark. He had almost been compelled to go after the man again even after the hit was removed and the money revoked, but he had moved on to another job and put it behind him. He had not wanted to get personal back then and as there was no longer any money in it, he had let it go. Now, however, he had made his money, in a thousand different forms of explosive violence, he could afford to pursue some personal interests. He had been performing jobs for so many people now that it was becoming routine, despite his never-ending source of creativity in coming up with new devices.

Yes, he decided right then. He could afford to take some personal time, tie up a loose end that had been nagging at him for years, have a little fun. He smiled at the image of the ATF Agent that had been bothering his memory. Larabee's head was bowed in the picture as he stood slightly apart from the rest of the mourners at the funeral of his wife and son... This time he would not fail.

..

**7. Cyber-Warfare **

A quiet groan was the first sound to come from Room 404 in the entire hour that Vin Tanner had again sat vigil by his best friend's bedside. It was a soft noise, a sign that the injured man lying so still in the bed was finally awakening into the dim light of the room, yet the Texan heard the sound as if it were a scream into the silence. He hated this, hated this helplessness and waiting. He had stopped replaying the scene in his mind, blocked out the picture of Chris slamming into that tree under the force of the fiery explosion, for he could no longer relive the experience without wanting to strike out at something.

Every day on the streets they saw criminals walking free. Drug dealers, weapon's dealers, murderers, all walking the city as if they had every right to, like they did not belong rotting in a prison or six feet under. It was part of the job, the acceptance that you could only do your best to get as many of the bastards as you could off the street, that it was not personal, it was your living. Yet so many times it was impossible to separate the job from their personal lives. Knowing what was out there, right under their noses, made it difficult to forget when the working day was over… and it took a lot of strength and conviction not to become jaded by it.

Vin moved to Chris's side now, his jaw clenched tightly as he reached out a hand to push the blonde hair aside and out of the green eyes that he hoped he was about to see. The movement revealed that the darkness around the closed eyes was not shadow, but dark bruising resulting from his head wound and Vin's jaw worked again to control his anger. This was his family, his brother, a man who meant more to him than catching any criminal in the real world. Right now, that room *was* his world and everything outside of it came second. The bastard who did this was going to pay, that was a certainty, but not yet, not at this moment. Right now, his brother was more important.

Another soft moan and Chris's eyelids finally fluttered. He kept them closed a moment, testing to see how strong the pounding in his head was this time, wanting to know if he was about to be sick again if he found it unbearable. Another few shallow breaths and he blinked again, finding even the dim light bright and giving another sound of protest. He had not been fully aware of anyone in his room that day, not Buck who had sat by his bed most of the morning, not Nathan who had taken over at lunch, not the doctors or nurses who had come in to wake him regularly and question him to ensure he was recovering alright, but he knew Vin was there. He'd felt him there even before he'd felt the strong fingers squeezing his forearm in encouragement… and was glad for it. Somehow, facing reality again after something like this was always easier when Vin was there to face it with him. Meeting him had made every day a little more bearable until he found himself actually _wanting_ to see what a new day would bring. Life had never been dull, since he'd met the sharpshooter, that was for sure. Since he'd put together his team of seven, he had found his purpose again.

Finally he made out the outline of Vin's hair in the low light and knew his face would be amongst the scruffy picture somewhere.

"Get a… haircut… you bum…"

Vin's lopsided grin was casual, but served to release the building pressure from his jaw. A head injury was no small deal and until he had heard the first sensible words come from Chris's mouth, he had not been able to believe the doctors assurances that everything looked fine in the tests.

"You first," he answered, seeing clearly the too long tufts of blonde that framed Chris's face on the pillow.

"'Shave wouldn't be a bad thing, neither."

Chris closed his eyes, but there was a faint smile on his lips. "Fuck you, Tanner."

They were silent a moment, both adjusting to the change in the room. Vin felt the tension slowly leaving him and Chris was trying to snatch hold of the murky visions that swam through his battered skull. Vin waited, content to give Chris time to pull himself back to the land of the living.

"What time is it?" came the first question.

"Three o'clock... afternoon."

Chris opened his eyes again, found the picture not quite as unfocused this time. "Why aren't you at work?" he said, his voice still slightly unsure.

Vin's grin grew. "Thought I'd slack off a little and use you as an excuse."

Chris let the sound of Vin's drawl seep into him, like a comforting shroud. Just the sound of it soothed him and allowed him to relax, giving him the strength to work through his thoughts. It was something to hold onto, something real and familiar.

"Meet… with Carlos…" he said out loud, the first thing that came to his mind from the morning.

Vin nodded. "In the park…" He prompted gently.

Chris's brow puckered as he finally made out Vin's clear eyes above him. Meeting with Carlos, in the park… Purple tracksuit… Vin kicking a duck, Buck complaining… Carlos on the bench, ducks everywhere… a skinny duck, a monkey… a monkey?

"What the hell happened?" he said then, a little alarmed as the sickening wave of thoughts turned into a flash flood. "I turned to leave and… Carlos showed me that toy… then…" he looked up at Vin, not able to remember.

"Relax, will ya?" Vin smiled, seeing that Chris was upset at his loss of memory. "Everythin's fine. Ya turned ta leave and got blown ta hell. That monkey was rigged up ta take Carlos out. Someone planted a device in it an' sent it ta Carlos strapped ta that duck. There was nothin' left of him… or the duck… You got in the way too, slammed into a tree."

"Head first," Chris guessed quietly, taking the information in.

Vin's lip curled again. "Yeah, head first."

Chris thought a moment, sifting through thoughts slowly, trying not to let them rush him again. He looked up and tried to study Vin's face. "You find anything? What don't I know?"

Vin took a seat beside the bed and leant his elbows on the mattress. "Jesus... where do I start…"

"Start with what happened to your arm."

Vin frowned at the white bandage that was now poking out of the arm of his grey t-shirt, the same t-shirt he'd been wearing since the morning. He should have left the shirt on, he wasn't ready to talk yet about what had happened.

"Ain't nothin'." Vin settled back in his chair, still facing Chris, but propping his boots on the lower rail by Chris's legs. He took a deep breath. "Turns out there's a list of offences pointing to the guy that rigged that device. Explosives sent three Agents over from Chicago, they've been investigating the bastard for years but they've never gotten a good lead… until now."

"Who is he?"

"They think he might be a guy goes by the alias, `Ginger Man.' They never knew why until I realised I actually saw the prick when I went looking when you were out."

Chris hiked up an eyebrow automatically. "He was there?" He looked at Vin's arm again, "You tangled with him?"

Vin looked down. "No… I noticed him, but I approached a woman with a pram who looked suspicious."

Chris did not miss the downcast eyes and waited.

"Turns out she was paid ta take the duck in the park and send it to the old guy. She looked a little fried… She pulled a gun on me, an'…" Vin lent his head back to look at the ceiling, blowing out a frustrated breath before he continued. "... an' she distracted me with her baby while she blew her own brains out on the side-walk."

"She what?" Chris had not expected that and was looking to Vin for more information. "What in hell for?"

But Vin had no answers to give him. He'd dwelled on it long enough now to know that sometimes there just were no satisfactory explanations in life. "Guess she figured it was better'n jail..."

Chris closed his eyes a moment, imagining what Vin had dealt with. "And the baby?"

Vin's eyes clouded even as against his will, an image formed of blue eyes and bright pink cheeks. "He's fine..." he looked at Chris then and when he spoke, Chris knew he need something from him. "He's young 'nuff to find a good home."

Chris wanted to punch something. Of all his team, that had to happen to Vin who was bounced from foster home to foster home until he had long given up on the system and decided to take the world on on his own terms, head on. "You said it yourself, she was unstable. A person really wants to take their own life, ain't nothin' you can do about it, sometime's they're beyond reasoning with. That baby will get every chance to have a decent life."

Vin looked back down. "I had a feelin'…" He shrugged then, as if putting his own problems aside and moving on before he looked back up. "Anyway, I missed the real guy sittin' pretty, havin' a coffee as calm as ya please up the road a'ways," he said a little to casually.

"Vin…"

Vin looked up, knowing Chris would not let him brush it off that easily. "You did all you could."

Vin's voice was raw as he answered in a soft, strained voice. "I know…" No-one else would see how he was dealing with this, how much it bothered them, for he would not let them see. Chris, however was another matter, there was nothing he had to hide from him. "I know," he said again, a little more forcefully and his eyes met Chris's in a soulful plea, "… but it don't stop me seein' her lookin' at me, hearin' that baby cryin', seein' those innocent eyes starin' up at me... She might'a got away, an' that baby would still have its mother, if I'd gone after that smug sonofabitch instead."

Chris shook his head a little. "Don't dwell on the might of beens... We can't afford to second guess ourselves, not in this game, you know that. Whatever happens to one of us, happens to us all, Vin. Whatever you do, there's six men right behind you, knowing you did the right thing" he said firmly, his voice telling Vin there was no other alternative to the matter. He saw that Vin needed time for his words to sink in. "You see the psych department yet?"

"They've got my initial report, guess they'll be in touch soon enough." The Texan grinned a little then. "Least that'll be a li'l fun."

Chris grinned back, knowing the hell all of his boys put the psych team through. The door opened softly and Buck poked his head in like a turtle, scanning the room before he entered.

"Hey Chris, `bout time you were up," he said, grinning in relief to see his oldest friend awake. He nodded to Vin, "Duck boy wake you up with all his chattering?" he asked, thinking that the room would have had about as much conversation as a memorial silence before he got there.

Chris's lip curled, remembering again the sight of Vin kicking out at a duck, complaining as they stalked him. He looked at Vin then, who was scowling at Buck. "I never knew you had a thing about ducks."

Vin let out an angry breath, trust Buck to bring that up straight off the bat. "I don't have a thing `bout ducks. There's only one I wanted ta kill, not the whole friggin' species." He stood up then, easing out his cramped legs and heading for the door. "I need a drink."

Buck laughed at Vin's back as he reached the door. "Get me a coke, willya?"

The clear "Fuck you," came from beyond the closed door.

Vin frowned back at the nurse that had overheard him outside the room, ignoring the giggling pair standing at a counter. To hell with everyone…

Buck settled into Vin's vacated chair, his face turning serious. "He tell you everything?"

Chris eased his head back into his pillow, exhaling as he spoke. "Told me explosives are working the case… and he told me about the suicide."

Buck shook his head. "Damn selfish thing to do, taking her life like that, leavin' a kid behind…"

Chris looked at Buck thoughtfully, but Buck could see he wasn't focusing on him. "Doubt she thought it was selfish… Person in that state of mind can think that they're doing the world a favour by leaving it… Think they don't deserve to be a part of it, that it has nothing to offer them, or them it…"

Buck looked sharply at Chris. Is that how far Chris's thinking had gotten when Sarah had died? Had he thought about leaving the world behind, that he did not deserve to live? Buck had always thought it selfish to take your own life, a cowards way out of dealing with things… but to a man who rarely got depressed, it was difficult to understand what could drive a person to take such measures. Chris had given him something to think about. Jesus, what if he had left and Chris had done himself in? But he couldn't afford to think like that, what happened was in the past. He had to believe he had done all that he could, had helped Chris to the point where he needed to help himself or he was never going to return to the land of the living.

"Hows Vin taking it?" he asked.

"Like Vin," Chris said simply, blinking out of his momentary melancholy. "He hasn't said much about this guy we're after yet, what did the explosives team say?"

"He's no small fish, responsible for a lotta deaths here and around the country. They think he operates out of Denver and thanks to Vin, they've finally gotten a description. They put together a sketch based on Vin's information and posted it out, he's a wanted man with a face now. Pretty distinct looking guy, bright red hair, we're hoping we can get to him before he changes his appearance."

"What about the bust tomorrow? You notify the other departments?"

Buck nodded. "Vin took care of it. Had a meeting with the other teams, Wilson's gonna set his team up to watch the dock for activity tonight, then swap with Team Five tomorrow. Still a chance somethin' might go down."

Chris sighed. "Damn.. I can't believe it got so fucked up, I really thought tomorrow was gonna be a good day…" He was thoughtful a moment before he spoke, his voice regretful. "That old man never saw it comin'…"

"Never know when yer time's up." Buck said. "But one things for sure, that present came straight from Giorgio. Travis wants us workin' with the explosive's team, hopefully we can tie in the two cases, get all of the bastards in one hit."

Chris looked up at him. "He's one slippery bastard, Giorgio. He's probably dug a hole back to hell to hide by now."

The door opened and Vin returned, tossing a can of coke to Buck, none too gently.

"Thanks, Junior! Needed to `wet my beak', so to speak…"

Vin's eyes flew to Bucks and he scowled… how long would this go on for? Knowing Buck, until Vin was forced to kill him. Still, he'd have his revenge. One… two… three…

"GODAMNIT TO HELL!" Buck leapt from his chair as the coke sprayed all over him, holding the exploding can away from himself as it continued to spew its dark, sticky contents out over the rim and onto the sterile floor. His face and shirt were saturated as Vin casually leant against the side table beside Chris's bed, sipping his own drink casually but noisily.

"Damn, those vending machines really throw those drinks out sometimes, can never be sure yer not gettin' a soda-bomb fer yer dollar."

As Buck cursed his way into the adjoining bathroom Chris shook his head at Vin. "You ask for it you know."

Vin grinned, "Yeah I know, but he had it comin'. `Side's," he rose his voice so that Buck could hear him, "Chris is the one that got blown up by a duck, he's got more to hold against the critters'n I have!"

"Don't make him start on me," Chris warned.

Buck poked his head out, grinning as he mopped out his shirt with a hand towel. "Technically it was a monkey that took Chris out, I'd say that earns him the title of –"

"Say it, Buck, I dare you."

Buck grinned at the fierce glare coming from the bed and returned to the sink out of sight. "See Junior? Chris leaves me no option but to pick on you!" he called out.

"You leave me no option but to put a bullet in yer ass if ya keep it up."

A nurse entered then, looking prim in her neat uniform, her dark red hair secure at the back of her neck. She walked forward straight into the wet spillage before either Chris or Vin could stop her. Chris closed his eyes and Vin winced as she stopped in her tracks and looked down in dismay at her shoes. Buck came out of the bathroom, still cursing and holding the depleted can in his hands, looking down as he held his soaking shirt-front away from his skin.

"I'm gonna shove this can up your fuckin' a- Ahhh… ooops," Buck's recovering grin was instant as he took in the nurse scowling at him fiercely, standing in a pool of fizzing liquid accusingly. The evidence still held in his hand sealed his fate as to who was responsible for the shoe-wrecking mess.

"Well… Guess I'll be headin' off," Vin said, an innocent expression on his face. "I'll be back in later, Chris."

Chris nodded to him, not surprised he was fleeing the scene.

Vin looked at Buck, pointing to the floor, "Might wanna clean up yer mess, there, Bucklin, fore ya ruin someone's day… Ma'am," he nodded to the nurse, already grinning before he headed out the door.

Buck looked from the nurse, to the empty doorway, then to Chris, finding his friend conveniently pretending to be asleep, only the curl of his lip giving away his amusement. He gave up and decided to try the Wilmington charm on the irate woman who had not yet moved.

"I suppose dinner is out of the question?"

..

JD waited patiently for Chris's computer to boot up. Chris had asked him to retrieve a file from his machine to send over to the hospital. Out of everyone's, Chris's was the slowest, in serious need of an upgrade, yet it did not seem to bother his captain. JD supposed to older guys, what they had not experienced, they did not miss. If Chris could only sit in front of –his- machine at home for a few minutes, he would see that he did not have to go through endless minutes of waiting for things to open and close and restart and connect… But he had given up trying to convince him to upgrade the office. Besides, with the amount of times the rest of the guys corrupted the network, usually Buck by downloading things from the internet, it was probably better to save the expense.

Finally the machine booted and he entered Chris's password, waiting again for the system to connect to the network. Dammit, he could be here all year! He needed food if he was going to deal with this… He left the machine and went to find something edible in the office kitchen, finding Ezra making fresh coffee.

"Hey Ez, you been over to see Chris yet?"

"Not as yet, I was planning on visiting on my way home."

"Reckon you could take a file over there with you? Chris asked me to print something off his machine."

"It would be my pleasure." Ezra took his coffee and headed for the door, saying in a low tone as he left, "I seek only to do thy bidding, Master Dunne…"

Hearing the sarcastic muttering, JD rolled his eyes, it would not be Ezra if he did not complain in some way. He found a half empty packed of corn chips and headed back to Chris's office, frowning as he heard the low sound that was now coming from his machine as he moved around behind the screen. He froze as he saw the animated picture that filled the monitor. The maniacal laughter seemed to chill him to his very core as he turned his head, not looking away as he shouted for the rest of the guys to come and look.

..

Wade Newton smiled as he looked at his screen, an exact mirror of what was right now displayed on Chris Larabee's screen. It had been simple to send the trojan to the computer that allowed him to view its contents as if he were sitting right before it. Everything on it was now his to play with. Firstly, he had hacked into the FBI files and found his likeness being circulated for one and all to see. He had been so angry to see that, he had smashed his chair against a wall in rage, but he had calmed down enough to start planning his course of action. It was a hindrance, nothing more. Dying his hair had taken only half an hour and had not stopped him from working except to rinse out the dark colour.

It must have been that agent he had seen run for the woman across the street that had identified him. He had to give them credit for working that much out after so long. A little research and he had discovered a lot more than he needed to about Chris Larabee and his team of specialised agents. Internal articles had them continually praised for their efforts, labelling them a close-knit team that were more than team-mates, they were close friends beyond the job as well. Well… he'd see just how close they were. Number one rule of combat, take out the leader first, then see how the team held up with no direction! Satisfied, he executed the timed program that would erase all of the files on the agent's machine and seriously corrupt the entire network it sat on, before exiting just in time to avoid his detection. While they tried to trace him, they would be leaving themselves open for destruction. He grinned, seeing his download of information from the machine complete before pushing his chair in and standing a moment, waiting... Then his screen flickered and the image changed, the photo he had found just that morning filling the screen, soon to be displayed across town on another monitor where it was no doubt being viewed closely by concerned agents. He grabbed his jacket and hat as he headed out, this was going to be fun.

..

Nathan, Ezra and Josiah gathered behind JD in Chris's office, watching the screen as JD spoke with the security team in the server room downstairs.

"What is that?" Nathan asked, looking at the fireball that was disappearing on Chris's screen.

"Wait…" JD said, watching as the cartoon began again. The laughter started and the picture of the ginger bread man appeared on the screen, pulling out a gun and pointing it at them, firing and then dancing off in the explosion.

"Dear God…" Ezra said as they all realised what was happening.

"Why don't you clear the screen?" Nathan asked.

"We're trying to trace him." JD informed him.

"Why Chris's machine?" Josiah asked, frowning.

"He must know who he put in the hospital today," Nathan said.

"Yes, but why leave him a calling card?" Ezra wondered aloud.

"Has he ever done that before?" Josiah asked.

Nathan turned to the outer office. "Moriss will be able to tell us."

"And we need to get security over to the hospital," Josiah said, heading to his own phone.

"What game are you playing?" Ezra whispered at the screen as the image began to change.

"Isn't that…?" JD began, squinting at the image that had begun to appear before them, a clear, large photo filling the screen.

Ezra's face paled in the artificial lighting. "Yes… Mr Dunne… It is…"

The first half of a short verse began to appear over the image,

'Missed you twice Mr Larabee, This time you will play with me…'

..

**Part 8. Personal Calls and Car Trouble **

Chris was dozing lightly when he felt goosebumps chill his skin beneath the light cover that rested over him. He stirred, opening his eyes to hear the phone ring quietly beside him and Buck's voice answer softly. Something was wrong…

Vin was still a good twenty minutes from the federal building when he saw steam coming from under the hood of Buck's car. Cursing with passion, he pulled over to the emergency lane and stopped the engine. He sat a moment, hands on the wheel, simply cursing his misfortune before he reached a hand to the door to investigate the damage with one last choice word aimed at both the car and it's neglectful owner.

..

"Wilmington."

"Buck it's JD."

"Missin' me already kid?" Buck said quietly, before he saw that there was no need, Chris was staring back at him, fully awake.

"Shut up and listen, Buck."

The tone of JD's voice had Buck frowning in instant alert.

"The Ginger guy is onto us. He infected Chris's computer, totally wiped it clean, but not before he left a message for him. We tried to do an initial trace, but he disconnected just in time. The tech guys downstairs are still trying to trace back for his location. This guy is smart, Buck."

"Why Chris?" Buck said, confused.

"Nathan spoke to Moriss and his guys, they say he has never done anything like this before… Somehow he's identified Chris as the agent involved and Buck, the message makes it clear this is personal… It wasn't about Carlos or Giorgi…"

"Personal? For what reason? How does he know Chris?"

"From the past… Ezra seems to think he might have made a connection between Chris and an incident that happened a few years back, that maybe he hacked into the report files…"

"What the hell did the message say?"

Back at his desk, JD sighed. "Is Chris next to you?"

"Just tell me JD," Buck almost growled.

"Backup's on its way to you, they're going to get you out of there, Josiah's co-ordinating the –"

Buck's voice was barely controlled, "_JD_."

JD sighed. "It was a picture of a ginger bread man, he fires a shot at the screen, when that finished he left a picture of… Jesus Buck you have to make sure Chris takes this OK… It was a picture of Chris… It was taken at the funeral for Sarah and Adam…"

Buck all but fell into the chair behind him, his face completely shocked. Chris sat up higher in the bed, wincing as his ribs shifted, knowing the news was anything but good.

"You there, Buck?"

"Yeah kid… what else?" Buck said quietly, running a hand across his troubled face.

"There was writing over the picture. It said…" There was a rustle of paper before JD read out the message he had written down as he and Ezra had stared in shock at the screen. "Missed you twice Mr Larabee, this time you will play with me… Run, run, as fast as you can –"

"You can't catch me, I'm the Gingerbread Man…" Buck finished and this time there was an angry glint in his eyes. He had yet to look at Chris, they were dealing with the bastard who had obviously killed his wife and child, how the hell was he going to tell him that?

"Yep, you got it." JD said. "Josiah should be there soon, there'll be agents there to secure the area. The hospital security are being alerted, we need to get you guys out of there as fast as possible before he tries something. If he's managed to get into our network, there's no telling what he knows." They were both silent a moment before JD continued in a tentative voice. "Hey, Buck?"

"Yeah kid?"

"Can you let Chris know that… well, you know…"

"Sure kid… I'll speak to you soon, keep your line open."

Buck hung up and turned to Chris, his elbows resting on his knees and met the waiting green eyes head on. There was a sense of urgency here that could not be ignored, but what he had to say could not be rushed, it deserved a thoughtful approach. "It's not good," he said, letting out a deep breath.

"I gathered that much." Chris smiled, but it clearly did not reach his eyes. He was letting Buck know it was ok, he was only the messenger. Whatever it was his old friend had to say, he had no pleasure in telling him, that was obvious. "Just tell me straight, Buck." His voice was firm, he would stand for nothing less than a straight answer.

Buck took another deep breath. "This guy we're after, this `Ginger Man'… shit…" he looked out the window a moment, finding the words before he looked back at the questioning, yet steeled, gaze. "He sent a message to your computer before he wiped it clean."

Chris's eyes narrowed. "I thought we had the most secure system in the world, how the hell could someone do that?"

Buck looked down, he had no answers, he was definitely no computer whiz. "There's more." He waited until Chris was looking at him again. "He knows who you are and… it seems he might have known you from a few years back."

"I'd know if I'd met this guy before. There wasn't -"

"From the time Sarah and Adam were killed." Buck said quickly, not wanting to draw it out any longer.

Chris's next words died in his throat as he swallowed them, his adams apple moving as his eyes took on the glint of the devil itself. He barely heard Buck's low voice continue. "He left a message implying he was aiming for you, he said he missed you twice, that –"

"What exactly was the message?" The voice was harsh, a low growl that caused Buck to flinch, even though he knew it was not directed at him.

"Missed you twice, Mr Larabee, this time you will play with me… He sent a picture of you at their funeral."

Outside of the room, the hospital was an unheeded maze of activity, even as the hands of Chris Larabee's mind spun backwards to a time that had never been buried. A laughing, beautiful boy, a woman who could rival the sweetest of angels, that he had once dared to call his own. They were not his at all, not really. They were only borrowed for a time, from the cruel God that sought to find them a better place, one that was a step beyond his unworthy arms.

"Chris…" Buck watched in pain as the strong face before him hardened and filled with a new grief and anger. He had seen that expression before, had hoped never to see it again. "Chris," he said again, in a firmer voice.

Chris's life began to spin as he relived the past with a new perspective. He could not speak, was not aware that his breathing had all but ceased within his hollow chest. Every image of the explosion that had killed his family came back to him, in renewed clarity. They had never discovered how the device had been planted in his home, how exactly it had been detonated, the wreckage was too intense, the equipment too professional. Had it been something as frivolous as a stuffed toy? Could Adam have held the thing in his very hands a moment before it exploded, just as that old man had earlier with a childlike fascination? Had the bastard been in his house? Was he the last person to see his wife and child on this earth? So many possibilities, yet one thing had been answered and with it came a renewed guilt that threatened to drown him in its intensity… It was because of him, that they had been killed… `Missed you twice, Mr Larabee…' the assassin had been after him…

"I'm so sorry, Chris," Buck whispered in a torn voice. "I wish this could be over for you."

Chris closed his eyes and leant his head back against the pillow, trying to stop his mind from spinning out of control. "He was after _me_… Why kill _them_?" he thought aloud.

"You can't go there again," Buck said quickly. Once before Chris had given in to the why's and how's, torturing himself with the need for answers, never finding anything but more guilt and grief. He could not allow him to succumb to that place again.

"And why tell me now?" Chris finally managed to grate out, his voice rough with controlled fury and overwhelming pain. He turned anguished eyes to Buck. "Why is he letting me know now? Why years later, why not back then?" He sat up straighter still, ignoring his suddenly pounding head and the fire poking in his side. His hands clenched the crisp sheets in their angered grasp and his rising fury was clear in his frustrated voice. "Why didn't he just finish the fucking job and take me out too?" He had just received one answer to a puzzle long left unfinished, but with it came a terrible burden. Again he felt the force of the knowledge that they had died because of him and for no other reason. He had always suspected it was so, but now he knew for sure.

Buck bowed his head a moment. He knew, if Chris had of been given the choice back then, he would have wanted it to end with his own death, for his own shattered life to be over. He shook his head slightly as he looked back up. "I don't know, Chris. This guys a real sick bastard… who knows how he's mind works…" His eyes took on a hard intensity as he stared into Chris's own. "He'll slip, everyone does, eventually."

"You said it yourself, Buck, this guys' good."

"Yes he is, he's real good at what he does."

Chris looked at him bitterly. "Killing people," he almost spat.

"Yeah…" Buck's voice was so soft it broke on the word, he too was thinking again of the family that he had loved that had rocked his world when they had been ripped from the earth so violently, "… killing people… but he's never had us on his tail before. He's messing with you, he's got seven of us coming down on him like his own personal demons.

They were quiet for a moment, both lost in thoughts of loss and trying to temper their anger. Buck knew that Chris could explode at any minute, had seen the aftermath of his rage too many times not to be expecting it.

"Ezra thinks he must have recognised your name from today. He might have hacked into the report files."

"Is everyone accounted for?" Chris asked then, stopping Buck with his firm question. Captain Larabee was never far from the surface – and he _always_ put his team first. Buck thanked God that this time round, his friend had something else to focus on besides his own pain - and that just might make the difference.

"Josiah's on his way here. We're going to get the hell out of here as fast as we can, in case he tries to hit the building. Ezra, Nathan and JD are at the office still and Vin must be almost back there by now."

"Call his cell phone, tell him what's going on."

Chris leant his head back on the wall again as Buck dialled Vin's number. He had not been prepared to hear that news. How many times had he told Vin not to take a case personally, that it was all part of the job? Then something like this comes up to slap you in the face so abruptly it leaves you reeling. For so long now he had dreamt of finding the man who had taken away all that he had loved most. He had finally thought he was moving on, that he was being _allowed_ to move on… he'd been wrong. He had not travelled all that far after all, the rage was just as strong, the despair just as overwhelming as it had ever been.

"No answer," Buck told him, hanging up the phone.

"Try again," Chris ordered and Buck frowned slightly but obeyed. A moment later he heard Vin's recorded message and left his own to tell him to call in asap.

..

Vin muttered another curse as he scraped his knuckles pulling at a hose near the radiator. He was going to kill Buck when he saw him, he owed him already, but now he was going to go all out in his payback. He did not hear his phone ring on the passenger seat of the car where he had left it as he ducked his head further under the hood, trying to use the army knife in his left hand to undo a clamp so as not to move his injured right arm.

..

Ezra stood behind the multiple screens in the IT security room of the federal building, the blue tinge of the monitors illuminating his grim expression. He studied the busy panels of data as if they could tell him all that he wanted to know. He knew many languages, but this was beyond his knowledge. The answers were there, the so- called 'experts' sitting before him had assured him of that, but he wondered if they would present themselves in time.

"Agent Standish, we will work back through his trail, I can call you as soon as we have a fix on him."

Ezra did not spare the man, barely more than a pimply teenager, a glance. "I assure you, I have no matter more pressing to attend."

He would hound them though `til dawn if he had to, but he would get the information he needed. Something inside told him it was imperative they find this man – and fast.

..

Chris practically growled as Buck hung up the phone again, Vin had not arrived at the office yet.

"JD will call as soon as he gets in Chris, relax, he probably stopped for some food, you know what he's like."

Even as he spoke, Buck had a niggling feeling. He thought again of the offbeat noise his car had made earlier and remembered how high his temperature gauge had been last time he'd looked and grimaced a little. It would hold out, surely it would hold out while Vin got back to the building…

"Then why isn't he answering his phone? That's not like him."

Buck did not answer. There was no point, Chris was right. A soft knock on the door announced Josiah's entrance.

"Chris, Buck."

"Josiah." Buck said as Chris nodded in greeting.

"How are you doing?" he asked Chris, concerned by the bruised skin around his eyes.

"I'll be fine, although this day just keeps getting better and better…"

"I'll bet," Josiah smiled briefly. He took a seat. "I take it JD called?" he asked them both.

"Yeah, poor kid, how'd he draw that straw?" Buck asked smiling slightly.

Josiah grinned, "Gotta be some drawback to being the youngest."

"I thought that was stupidity," Buck said, wishing JD was around to hear him. He would welcome a moment's light banter. He knew things were only going to get uglier before they got better.

Josiah got down to business. "We've got men in position around the building, the security have been notified. We need to clear out of here as quickly as possible. I've checked into available safe houses within the city…"

"How about that one with the swimming pool on the roof we holed Ezra up in last year, that available?" Buck asked hopefully.

"Not since the department sold it, something about improper use of government facilities…?"

Buck grinned, although he was disappointed. "Hell, a place like that was built for a man's pleasure, Josiah, women are drawn to it, it wasn't my fault."

Josiah ignored him as he spoke again to Chris. "Nathan's waiting to hear from me and he'll meet us at the chosen location. The doctor's going to come in now to make sure you're alright to travel," he told Chris.

"We need to get out of here as quick as we can manage it, but we'll locate Vin first."

Josiah frowned and looked from Buck to Chris. "Where is he meant to be?"

Buck gave a slight shrug. "He was headed back to the office. He should have been there by now."

The phone rang in the ensuing silence and Buck picked it up.

"Wilmington."

"Mr Larabee, please."

Buck frowned. "Mr Larabee is currently –"

"Keeping me from speaking with your Captain will serve only to prolong the inevitable, Agent Wilmington… I am a patient man, but can tend to _explode_ when pushed, if you take my meaning."

Buck's eyes widened before flashing to Chris. "You motherfucker, you – "

"Charming. You are very much the macho agent are you not?" Newton laughed before his voice dropped. "I will speak only with Captain Larabee."

Chris and Josiah knew instantly that it was him as Buck scowled and put his hand over the phone, holding it out to Chris.

"It's him."

**Part 9. Truth Not Wanted **

Chris's jaw clamped tight as he ignored his burning side and sat up straighter once more, taking the phone. "What game are you playing at you prick?" he said immediately in a low, deadly tone. Laughter reached his ear in return.

"Oh, Captain Larabee, I just knew you would be fun to play with! The dark, avenging angel, so terribly wronged. Life has been a cruel journey for you, has it not?"

"What the fuck do you want from me?"

Newton sighed. So crass, these public servants. "Your pain, your total awe in the face of my brilliance and power."

Chris said nothing, just waited for the sonofabitch to get to his point, but he was taking his time getting there, toying with him.

"He was a beautiful child, was he not? Your child?" Newton prompted unexpectedly.

Chris's hand gripped the phone so tight his knuckles turned white as more laughter came to him through the line.

"He did not cry, you know, or the woman… She begged me at first, begged me to spare your son…"

"Shut the fuck up," Chris said, his voice a pained whisper. He did not want to know, he thought he always had, but when it came down to it, he did not.

"Of course I couldn't," the voice went on in a casual tone, as if he were making polite conversation. "Spare them, I mean... She was beautiful was she not?"

Chris felt the grief surge through him like a wave of heat. The thumb of his left hand moved inside his palm to his second finger where it toyed familiarly with the white gold band that rested there. People had long since stopped asking him if he was married, most knew the tragic tale already. "You ring for your own amusement or is there a point to this call?" He forced himself to ask.

Newton frowned a little at that. The man was showing him no respect… well that would change. "You surprise me, Mr Larabee, don't you want to know who put up the fee for my expertise?"

"Who put up the fee?" Chris asked sarcastically, knowing he would not get an answer. It was the question most important in his life. It answered the `why?' that he so needed to know, yet he would not play his game. He saw the door to his room open and a doctor enter. Josiah rose to stop him advancing.

"I can hear by your tone of voice you do not expect an answer to that question. Now if you had asked me nicely, perhaps I would have obliged you… But as it stands… it would not be professional of me to reveal my client would it? I might never work in this town again." Newton chuckled once more, he was loving this.

"You're a clown you red-haired freak." The laughter finally stopped and Chris continued, "… and you're going to pay for your crimes you sick fuck."

Wade Newton felt the rage of a lifetime of taunting surface and threaten to overtake his thinking. It took him much effort, but finally he pushed his rage aside long enough to speak. "Oh of that I have no doubt. Eventually we must all answer to someone…" his voice turned hard a moment. "But not in this lifetime." He reached out for a candy and toyed with it a moment in his fingers, studying the black, shiny surface reflecting the low light. The familiar taste on his tongue comforted him. "You want to know why I killed them don't you?"

Chris's throat worked again. He wanted to scream `Yes!' he wanted to beg to know, but instead he said nothing.

"Ah, so much pride… You are a noble man, Chris Larabee." Newton looked at the photos of the blonde agent scattered on his desk, printed from the data he had collected on the target years before. "I can see that in your face. Too noble, I think for some…" He paused over a photo of the ATF agent standing in the arms of a woman not his wife. "Some people cannot live their lives knowing that such integrity as yours is beyond their reach. It serves to remind them of what they are lacking in their world… They often tend to want to eliminate that presence from their lives."

Everything the man said was loaded, leading to – what? Chris tapped his head back against the rail behind him and regretted it instantly.

"What are you thinking, Mr Larabee? Who did you affect so greatly that they wanted you dead? Hmmm… will you ever know?"

"Just tell me what the fuck you want from me."

Newton smiled once more, finally hearing the emotion in the Agent's voice. "If I were you, I would take it as a compliment. All that trouble in order to rid you from someone's life. It shows how much of an impact you made on them, don't you think? Is that not what life is about, Mr Larabee? Our lives, impacting on other lives?"

Chris was not about to get into a discussion with a deluded psychopath. "Why my family?" he said in a rough voice, he needed to know.

Newton raised a brow as he popped another candy in his mouth. "You were not home, I was bored."

Chris wanted to smash something, to jump up and scream until his lungs burnt from the pain, but this may be his only chance to ever hear the truth about what happened. Were they killed to assuage a madman's boredom? "Why didn't you finish the job then and kill me?" he said in a controlled voice.

"I guess my client decided that fate had produced an even better punishment to the one she had devised. An eternity of anguish, all of her doing."

She? _Her_ doing? Chris forced his hand to relax its painfully tight grip on the phone. "You're insane. I'm not playing whatever fucked up game it is you're trying to start."

"Oh, I think you will. This is beyond the black and the white, Captain. This is a whole area of grey not found in any police manual or code of conduct. Your nobility will again serve you wrong. You never were one to take a loved one's suffering lightly, were you…"

The phone clicked audibly and Chris knew he was gone. He looked at Buck, "We have to get out of here, but we're staying in the city. Josiah, can you arrange the transport?"

"Chris..." Buck said, concerned for his friend.

Josiah stood, "I'll send the doctor in and alert the teams."

"We need to get everyone together on this and we have to find Vin, _now_!" Chris continued, fear for his missing friend threatening to paralyse him if he did not take action, fast.

"Chris," Buck said more urgently and Chris looked up at him, a plea in his eyes.

"Let me handle this my way, Buck... Right now, I need to be busy."

Buck studied the familiar face and nodded once. As always, he would let Chris deal with his pain, ever watchful if it should become too much for him to bear alone.

Josiah paused at the doorway as the phone rang again and Buck answered it once more, grumbling as he did so.

"I may as well become a fucking secretary," he scowled. "Wilmington," he said brusquely.

_"When I see ya again, Bucklin, I'm gonna shove my boot so far up yer hairy ass yer gonna need a –" _

"Whoa now Junior," Buck chuckled with pure relief to hear the familiar drawl through the phone, even if it was a threatening one. The sound of Vin's voice was the first good news they'd had all afternoon.

Chris closed his eyes in thanks as he waited to hear where Vin had been, feeling Josiah's warm squeeze on his shoulder. The large man had understood how worried he'd been over Vin's whereabouts. They all knew the two men were closer than brothers.

_"Whoa my ass, I'm stuck out here, ten minutes drive from the fuckin' hospital, on the side of the fuckin' interchange because of yer run down piece of shit, instead of bein' back at the office where I belong, lookin' fer that sack `a shit –" _

Buck held the phone away from his ear as the Texan rambled on and Chris took it from his hand, putting it to his ear and catching the tail end of Vin's colourful rant. For the first time that afternoon, a real smile graced his lips.

"Now if I were a religious man, Tanner, I might just take exception to that."

Vin's breath caught as he heard Chris's voice in his ear. "Wilmington's a dead man," he muttered.

Chris laughed, supporting his ribs with one hand, it was so good to hear Vin was alright. "I don't doubt it, where the hell are you?"

Vin sighed as he got back in the car and closed the door so that he could hear better without the noise of the traffic. "Buck's car's gone an' died on me, got a split radiator hose and there isn't a drop a' oil in the fuckin' thing – thought only women didn't check the oil in their cars…"

"Where was your phone? We were trying to call you."

Vin heard something in Chris's voice then. "Why, what happened? And while yer tellin' me, send that useless, moustache-totin' bitch out ta help me get this bucket a' shit back on the road, he knows where I am."

Chris chuckled again at Vin's description and nodded to Buck, "Go help Vin out, we'll call you when we know where we're going, you can meet us there."

Buck took the keys Josiah offered him and grumbled out the door, the ex-preacher following right behind him. "Weren't my fault, the way that damn Texan drives he prob'ly had it up on two wheels the whole way `til he blew it up." He stopped at the door, "You tell that crazy bastard if he's damaged my Betsy –"

"Buck," Chris said.

"Tell him its time to put the old girl down, Chris," Vin said, hearing Buck's parting words.

Chris ignored him and watched the door close, leaving him in peace finally. "I want this guy, Vin, more than I've wanted anything before."

Vin heard the anger clear across the distance. "What's happened, Chris?"

"He's the one… he killed Sarah and Adam, that fucking…" Chris fought to find a strong enough word to describe the man that had become the embodiment of evil to him and found he could not. "… He's the man that killed my family."

Vin leant his head back on the seat rest, his own plight completely forgotten.

"Everything I've ever said to you about not getting personally involved doesn't apply here, Vin… This isn't about the job, one way or another, I'm going to kill this sonofabitch."

"You're sure it's him?" Vin asked.

"He just told me so himself."

Blue eyes glinted dangerously. "Then we're gonna kill that sonofabitch," he agreed.

..

JD waited until he was admitted to the IT security room and immediately spotted Ezra as he walked in. The Southerner had hardly moved, he was going through file after file on cases linked to the Ginger Man while he made sure the tech boys earned their keep and continued to search for the hackers location.

"Hey Ez, any luck?" he said, standing beside him.

Ezra finished reading the sentence he was on and looked up at JD, blinking a moment before a wide grin split his face. He had been staring at the screen for a long time, not moving anything bar his hand on the mouse and stopping to jot down notes every so often. Luck? Hardly. Perhaps talent was the better word. Suddenly he slapped his hands on the desk.

"There is no such thing as luck, my dear Mr Dunne, I believe the word you were looking for is *skill*." He pushed his chair back and began to gather his things.

JD rolled his eyes, "Yeah, whatever, did you find anything?" He watched the southerner get up and collect his notes, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair. Ezra did so love a good puzzle, but he also liked to know where the pieces went in advance. JD assumed he had just put a few together.

"We need to have an enlightening chat with the Chicago team, particularly with Agent Tucker, have they returned to the building yet?"

"They just came in, they're upstairs. I just filled them in on the situation. Have you heard from Chris?"

"Excellent! And yes, I have only just ceased a most enlightening conversation with our Captain. We had a somewhat lengthy discussion on the standard procedure of report submission."

JD frowned, scratching his head literally, "Greaaat…"

Ezra slapped JD on the back, further alerting the younger agent that the southerner was most definitely on to something. "Indeed it was, Mr Dunne, indeed it was. I do believe this case is about to be blown wide open." He stopped a moment and lowered his voice, actually grinning at JD so great was his enthusiasm. "If my evidence is correct, we may be about to expose a recreant in our midst."

JD stared blankly back at the expectant Ezra who squeezed the younger man's arms to emphasise the import of his statement. "A traitor, a Judas," he scowled, "…a mole?"

"Alright alright I got it!" JD shrugged out of Ezra's grip and started to walk ahead to the door. "Sometimes you're just plain scary, Ezra."

Ezra grinned, "Oh but so very brilliant my young friend! Let us not forget *brilliant*!" he finished with a flourish. He stopped to address the men working in front of the largest bank of screens on the front wall of the room. "I shall be back down shortly, gentlemen." He told them, fully aware of the names they would soon be calling him as soon as the door was closed, if not before - and caring not at all. If those young geeks had their way, they would be home with pizza and porn by now, he was sure of it. The overtime was something none of the disrespectful, highly paid, thinly veiled hackers needed, nor was the challenge. Not when they were paid enough to buy their own shares in Clearasil, legally.

He met JD at the elevator outside.

"You know, I did read earlier today, a theory on the internet that the guy we're after has help inside the government."

Ezra smiled, "Come now Mr Dunne, are you suggesting that there may be some truth to world wide gossip? That the mere," he waved an arm broadly to encompass the world internet population, "'public enthusiasts' could know more than the world's most highly trained, not to mention paid, government agents? Who would put stock in such a notion?"

JD grinned and eyed the door to the room they had just left, where panels of data lined the benches, each one manned by a person paid by the government to monitor the world's communication via the internet. `The worlds most highly trained government agents' was the unspoken answer. He thought on what Ezra had said for a moment and then looked back at him sharply. "If there _is_ any truth at all in that rumour, Tucker knows everything that's going on. That could be how he found out where Chris was so fast."

Ezra nodded, "Then I suggest we investigate this rumour post haste." He grabbed his coat and straightened his tie as they made to leave.

"Josiah just called, Vin's broken down with Buck's car."

"Yes, so Mr Larabee has just informed me. Why on earth Mr Tanner would willingly take that vehicle anywhere is beyond my comprehension," he said, entering the elevator. A thought struck him then and he stopped JD. "Mr Dunne, did you by chance happen to mention Mr Tanner's misfortune to the Agent's upstairs?"

JD paused, his eyes widening as he looked at Ezra.

..

Buck was not far from the hospital when he heard a siren behind him and cursed. Dammit, now someone was trying to give him a speeding ticket on top of everything else. He prepared to get himself off the hook, reaching for his badge as an officer approached him. His hands froze as he saw the young man already had his firearm drawn and pointed at him.

"Please place your hands on the wheel, sir."

Buck stared at the man in disbelief. What the hell was going on?

..

Newton smiled. Things were going along wonderfully. For once in his life he was not trying to plan everything out to the letter, but was allowing for change and happen stance – and it was proving a grand adventure, everything simply falling into his lap. He had thought to simply take out Larabee where he lay in his hospital bed, but this would be much more fun. After speaking with him, he had decided that killing him outright was not enough. He wanted to have a little more fun.

He saw the hazard lights of the broken down vehicle up ahead and smiled again. Here was his insurance policy, his ticket to Larabee's cooperation. From everything he had discovered, the Captain's next of kin was closer than family to him… Seeing as how he had already killed Larabee's real family, he could not really ask for a better target.

..

Vin had had no choice but to wait for Buck, the nearest gas station was miles away and it would be quicker to have Buck take him there for another hose and some oil. He only hoped that the motor would be ok once it cooled down enough to drive. He'd searched through the cherished collection of Wilmington tapes, Buck never having seen the point of installing a CD player, to JD's disgust, but had quickly discovered that his friend's poor taste extended to his music as well.

It was growing darker by the minute, the headlights of passing cars seeming to grow brighter the longer he waited. As he switched radio stations for around the seventh time, he noticed a car finally pulling in behind him and sighed with relief, preparing to vent his built up frustration on Buck the minute he faced him. Having been too long sitting idle, he exited the car and turned to berate Buck, holding up a hand to ward off the visual assault from the blinding headlights.

"Ya wanna dim those things or ya tryin' ta blind me on top of everythin' else?" he yelled out.

There was no fast comeback and it was at that second that Vin felt a sense of foreboding and reached for his gun. His hand had just reached the holster when he felt a sharp stab to his chest and looked down to see a small dart sticking out. He managed to clear his gun from its leather case and raised it towards his attacker, not able to see anyone beyond the light, not sure where the threat was standing as much too quickly, the light began to blur before his eyes. He was incapable of a last thought as his knees buckled and he began a rapid journey to the ground.


	3. Chapter 3

**10. Answers and Riddles **

Ezra and JD entered their office to find Moriss and Bryant preparing to leave.

"Gentlemen," Ezra said, approaching them. "I was wondering if we might have a word before you leave."

Moriss looked at him a moment. "Of course," he indicated JD, "Mr Dunne updated us on the current situation, did you come across some new information?"

Ezra looked at JD a moment before asking, "Is Agent Tucker still present?"

"He stepped out for a bit, but he'll be back any second now…" Moriss studied Ezra's face. "Is there a problem?" he asked straight.

Ezra indicated the doorway, "Perhaps it would be better if we adjourned to the meeting room to wait for Agent Tucker."

They moved down the hallway into the room, taking seats around the table.

"How long did you say you have all been on this case, Agent Moriss?" Ezra asked.

Moriss detected the veiled suspicion in Ezra's voice. "A year, Bryant came on board six months ago, Tucker's been involved on and off for a bit longer. Why?"

Ezra shrugged, hearing the office doors open and waiting until the Agent in question entered.

"Agent Tucker, we were just about to discuss a few points to the case, care to join us?" he asked the surprised man. Ezra could have sworn he looked… flustered.

"Certainly," Tucker eyed Moriss. "Something happen while I was gone?"

Moriss shrugged, "Not that I know of." He narrowed his eyes at Ezra. "Perhaps you should just say what's on your mind, Agent Standish."

Ezra stood slowly, determined to play his hand, his way.

"There are just a few things that I wanted to go over… Agent Tucker, we were just discussing how long each of you have been on this case, how long has it been for you now?" He watched the man's eyes closely.

"Just over a year," Tucker said, looking to Moriss with a raised brow. Moriss simply shrugged.

"And explosives, you were transferred to that department in ninety…?"

Tucker's eyes narrowed, "Nine."

"Mmm…" Ezra appeared to consider this as he paced the table slowly.

"Is there some point to this, Standish?" Moriss asked.

Ezra looked at the older agent a moment and shrugged. "It just seemed odd to me, that for over five years now, Agent Tucker's name has been present consistently on reports relating to the crimes of our mysterious `ginger man'. The last three years have involved major bombings throughout the country, most far distanced from the Washington Department that Agent Tucker was appointed to and yet his name *still* managed to appear on a conspicuous number of reports pertaining to the incidents."

Moriss frowned at that information. "If that were so, we could have seen the evidence of it by now. My team and I have been going over those reports for the last year now since a task force was put together to get the guy."

"Perhaps…" Ezra said, his hands in his pockets as he turned to face Tucker, although he addressed Moriss' objection. "However, as we discovered today, the governments computer system is not necessarily the most full proof in the world." Ezra moved to the phone at the table. "I have someone I would like you all to meet from the computer lab downstairs." He picked up the phone and dialled an extension.

Tucker stood impatiently and looked down at Moriss. "What the hell is this about? We don't have time to sit here while Standish plays inspector, this is the closest we've ever been, why are we wasting time with this? I never saw any of those reports until I was assigned the case just ahead of you."

Almost imperceptibly, Moriss' eyes narrowed before he looked over at Ezra, now asking someone to come upstairs as discussed. Ezra hung up the phone. "Where is this going?" he asked him, not liking to play games.

Ezra took a seat a moment and gave Moriss a hard look. "Please, this will only take a moment, there is a valid point, I assure you."

They waited in tense silence until they heard a voice in the main office.

"Please, step this way," Ezra called out.

A young man from the IT room entered, looking slightly nervous at the men gathered formally in suits at the large table. He looked to Ezra.

"Gentlemen, this is Agent Scott, he is one of our esteemed computer analysts. I asked him here to better explain to you what I discovered today as I looked back over the case reports of the past years. Agent Scott, please explain to these gentlemen what you so kindly explained to me earlier regarding the altered files."

Ezra merely flicked his eyes to Tucker, but it was enough to see his discomfort. He was nervous. If Ezra was playing cards right now, he would say that the pot was definitely his for the taking, that man was about to have his bluff called.

"Um… Well… Every night each network is backed up both locally and from the head office for data protection. That includes all reports and files created or altered that day. If requested, we can generate a report on any specific files to view the dates they were accessed or altered. Mr Standish presented me with several file names and it appeared that those files were both created from the Denver Department, but altered from the Washington bureau. This information is not evident on the normal logs, it is only through the backup reports that you can see this and you have to know what you are looking for. Mr Standish requested I determine Agent Tucker's login registration code and it was found to match the identity of the one embedded in the changed files on the system."

All eyes turned to Tucker who got to his feet. "You have been investigating my activities internally? By what authority have you gained access to my login code?"

"Something to hide, Agent Tucker?" JD asked, understanding the implications of what the young agent had told them.

"Is this true, Tucker? What reason would you have to alter files on the system?" Moriss looked at Ezra. "What information was changed?"

Ezra looked at the young agent. "Are those original reports available yet?"

Agent Scott shook his head, "Almost. They were a little hard to find in the archives."

Ezra nodded. "We will be here when they are ready to be reviewed."

Scott took one last look at the men and took his leave.

"What this means, gentlemen, is that initial reports were altered following their filing and signing off. My educated guess," he looked at Tucker, "is that on several occasions, witness accounts were altered so as not to allow investigating departments to build an adequate profile of the suspect. I believe the task now, is to re- evaluate the original reports and to question once more the detectives involved in the cases."

Tucker stood. "Anyone could have gained access to my code. I didn't touch those reports and I'm not sitting here whilst you accuse me –"

"Sit down, Tucker." Moriss's expression was fierce, he had put a whole year into this case, constantly hindered by a lack of evidence and information.

Bryant's expression was also dark. "What was in it for you?" he asked his former team-mate, for the guilt was written in the man's defensive reaction. He had worked in the game long enough to read a person's body language.

Tucker scoffed at the implication. "I don't know what the fuck you are all talking about. Why the hell would I sabotage a case I was working on? It would be detrimental to my own progress."

"Money? Power? You tell us, Agent Tucker."

Tucker almost lunged for the smug southerner who was souly responsible for attempting to ruin his career. "I did *nothing* wrong." He took a step to the doorway. "And I'm not going to stay here while –" he turned as he saw two uniformed officers behind him. They had been ordered to arrest the agent when he tried to back form the room, just as the ATF agent had told them he would.

Tucker looked at Ezra with hatred. "You can't fuck me over, Standish, you'll regret the day you met me," he vowed as his hands were manoeuvred behind his back.

"I assure you, that day has already come my friend." Ezra left the man with a hard look, promising him that he would see him destroyed for what he had done. He looked at the remaining men.

Moriss rubbed a hand over his face. "I don't believe it… Jesus Christ a whole fucking year I've been working side by side with him and I never suspected a thing!"

"Neither did I…" Bryant looked at Moriss. "You think he'll talk to us?"

Moriss shook his head, but said, "He'd better, or he's looking at a lifetime of hell – and that's just from me."

..

Vin was cold, colder than he could remember being. Funny, he had not thought it was going to be this cold last night… he should have grabbed another blanket when he'd gone to bed. He made to get up and find one when suddenly he frowned. He could not move his arms. Slowly he opened his eyes and fought through the slow spin that his mind was intent on continuing. His mouth was dry, his brain was foggy and his body was stiff. What the hell was going on?

Finally his eyes focused and he found it was dark. He could hear… water… and traffic… He peered into the darkness. Where the hell was he? The traffic was busy, and close, it seemed to be coming from… above? He angled his head and saw nothing but concrete, a yellow light illuminating the roof above him. Again he tried to move and finally looked down… and saw enough explosives strapped to his chest to make a large dent in the world.

..

Chris was winded by the time they were safely away in the black government sedan. It had taken half an hour to clear his leaving with the doctor and organise their transfer from the hospital. From his discussion with Ezra had come the decision to go back to the office. He could not allow his team to deal with that situation alone. He leant back in the seat and tried to relax, thoughts of his earlier conversation plaguing him as the car stopped at a traffic light and he sighed softly.

"You alright, Chris?"

Chris curved his lip at the ever-diligent healer that had met them at the hospital. "I'm fine, Nathan, we've only been on the road three minutes."

"You shouldn't be up and about just yet. That's a serious bump you got to your skull there. I don't need to tell you the dangers of hitting your head again."

Chris's phone rang and he answered it with relief to avoid Nathan's worry.

"Larabee."

"Chris, it's Buck…"

Chris heard the fear immediately. "What's happened? Did you get to Vin?"

"I was detained, Chris. The fucking Denver PD picked me up, they were tipped off that I was a God damn serial killer! Someone didn't want me to get to Vin… Chris I've found my car, but by the time I cleared it up with those idiots he wasn't here. I can't see him anywhere."

Chris slammed a hand onto the door's armrest. "_Fuck_!" he took a calming breath, he needed to think. "You've tried his phone?"

Buck looked at the passenger seat beside him where he sat beside the wheel of his car. "It's on the front seat."

Damn damn _damn_…. "Call it in, Buck, stay down there, help search the area, he could be hurt somewhere off the road, check it out thoroughly. I think I know who might have set it up. Ezra's found evidence that Tucker's been playing on both sides of the fence."

"_What_? He's _helping_ this bastard? Why the hell would he do that?"

"I don't know yet, I'm heading back to the office now. Just keep searching, Buck, I'll be in touch."

Chris hung up and dialled the office, if Tucker was involved, he was as good as dead.

..

JD and Ezra sat down again in the meeting room when Agent Scott again returned with a massive stack of reports they had printed out. Moriss and Bryant had already decided to see what information they could get from Tucker.

"We're going to be here all year," JD moaned.

"Just look for eyewitness accounts, anything pertaining to the suspect that may have been eliminated."

..

Chris returned to the office with Josiah and Nathan and found Ezra and JD in the midst of piles of paperwork.

"Hey Chris, how's the head?" JD asked. He had yet to see his captain since the incident that morning, nor had Ezra.

"I'm ok, JD," Chris said, gripping the young agents shoulder as he moved past him.

"Mr Larabee," Ezra said, looking up.

"Ez," Chris said. He addressed them both. "You've done some great work today, guys."

Ezra nodded, accepting the compliment and JD smiled in pride as he found the page he had been looking for before Chris had entered.

"Any news on Mr Tanner?" Ezra asked, seeing Chris's jaw tighten at the question.

"Not yet," Chris said, sitting down. "Buck's still at the scene, they haven't been able to determine much. It's possible he went for help." Even as he said it, Chris knew that was not the case, Vin would not have done that without telling them, or left without his phone.

"Grab a pile, boys," Ezra encouraged Josiah and Nathan. "As far as we can tell, these are the original documents from cases relating to our illusive `ginger man' over the past three years."

..

Buck stood still a moment amidst the flashing police lights. The road had been blocked off and was now being thoroughly examined for any clues that might tell them where Vin had gone. He eyed the open hood of his car and looked away again. If something happened to Vin, it was his fault, that was a fact.

..

Vin couldn't tell much about the device rigged to trigger the explosives strapped to the vest he wore. He could see little more than the explosives themselves. His hands were tied behind him and he was chained to a pillar, there was little much he could do but stare at the dark water and pray that someone came along – preferably someone that did not intend to rob or kill him...

He could not believe the situation he was in. It really did not get much worse than this, he realised. With that thought a grin found its way to his freezing lips and he tilted his head back to lean against the cold concrete that he stood attached to. There was definitely a bright side. If he managed to live through this, life really didn't get more dismal than being strapped, alone, under a concrete bridge, with a shit-load of explosives that were set to blow you and half the city to pieces, with the trigger in the hands of a hell-bent psychopath…

..

The ink on the pages were beginning to blur and there was talk of pilfering more coffee from another office when Nathan made a small noise and peered more intently at the paper in his hands. Four sets of weary eyes looked for an explanation. So far, they had found several accounts of the suspect having been seen at the site of the explosion that were deleted from the initial reports. Descriptions of a man, in his early to mid twenties, with bright, red hair and pale skin, often wearing gloves and a high-necked sweater, were given by several witnesses.

They had had no news on Vin as yet and the morale in the room was beginning to wane.

"What is it, Nathan?" Josiah asked.

Nathan looked up. "There was a detective working the Alvarez case nearly three years ago… He makes some connections here about our guy and a case many years before, where a school was blown up, just outside of the city…" He scanned the paper, "It was a Detective… Lonsdale."

"Lonsdale…" Josiah began to rummage through a pile of notes before him.

"Go on…" Chris urged.

"Well…" Nathan said, picking out parts of the report, "He says here that the method and execution were similar to that of a case of a small school in a border town. The bomb exploded on a Saturday, fourteen children and a teacher were killed where they were conducting their weekly choir practice."

"What's his connection?"

"Lonsdale made a note here to reference to a case in the same town many years prior to that, where a single mother was killed by a bomb rigged to the timer of her microwave."

"We need to talk to this guy." Chris looked at JD, "JD see if you can find his–"

"There's no need," Josiah said, causing all eyes to look to him. He held up a photo of an older man in a police uniform, who looked around the retirement age, with a newspaper clipping scanned beside it. "He's dead."

Ezra grabbed the sheet and read the paragraph out loud. "Former US Army Captain, explosives expert and decorated Vietnam veteran-turned police Detective, Hector Lonsdale, was killed by a car bomb outside his Denver home yesterday… One year from retirement, Detective Lonsdale leaves his wife, four children and six grandchildren behind in a crime that may be related to a case he was working on with the Denver ATF Department."

"This doesn't end…" Chris said as they all tried to keep their minds in focus.

"I guess this means there was some validity to his connections," Ezra said.

"And look at this!" Nathan stared at another page a moment before looking up and holding up another photo.

"Is that…? Holy shit!" JD said, looking to see if the others had come to the same conclusion.

"I do believe we have found `Mamma' Ginger Man," Josiah said with a wry smirk.

Chris took the picture of the woman with the too pale skin and the bright red hair and shook his head. "Mrs Patrice Newton, mother of only child Wade Daniel Newton." He stood up slowly. "Alright, see if you can get a current location on this prick."

"You alright, Chris?" Nathan asked as Chris moved to leave the room.

Chris held up a hand to ward off the concern. "Fine, just gonna go to my office for a bit."

As he reached his office he left the light off and let the light from the outer office cast a more bearable glow on the room. His head was pounding, but his worry for Vin was overriding his need to lie down. He sat at his desk a moment and put his head in his hands, thankful just to close his eyes for a moment. He did not realise he had drifted to sleep until a loud beep caused him to lift his head from where it rested in his arms on the desk.

It took a moment to realise it was his fax machine beeping that a call had been received. He got up slowly and moved around his desk to the wall unit, retrieving the paper that had come through. His heart froze at the image on the page, of low quality but recognisable all the same. He moved quickly to the door and saw four sets of eyes look up expectantly.

"He's got Vin." Suddenly he felt the ground tilt and before he could recover he felt Josiah guiding him back into his office and to his couch.

JD and Ezra entered with Nathan who went to check on Chris. JD took the sheet from his hands.

"Dear God…" Ezra said, peering over JD's shoulder and seeing the image of what was obviously Vin, with explosives strapped to his chest, head bowed and hair covering his face.

JD read out the text beneath the picture:

_**"Man walks over, man walks under, if this one blows, to their deaths they will plunder." **_

They were silent a moment before Ezra spoke softly. "A bridge."

JD looked at Ezra and then finished the text:

_**"I am bound to the South, so if you are able, you may stop the force, that will break my cables." **_

"The Signature bridges…" Josiah said, referring to the relatively new bridges that connected traffic in the city over the Platte river.

"They made such a fuss about the cable arches when they put them up…" JD said softly. "Wasn't that a bit easy?"

"He want's us to know," Chris said, sitting up. He pushed himself up as fast as he could. "Let's go." He turned to Josiah who had worked with the bomb squad at one time. "Alert the bomb squad, Josiah. Ezra we need a chopper ready, we'll cover the bridges quicker that way - and we need the whole area blocked off and evacuated."

"Jesus, that's a huge area." JD said as the other men moved to follow their orders.

Chris looked at him. "And that's a huge fucking bomb." And it was strapped to his best friends chest. "And someone call Buck," he said, moving to get his jacket, "Tell him he can stop looking and meet us."

**11. Under The Bridge a chilli pepper remix **

Vin's legs wanted nothing more than to cease supporting his weight. He was chained to the pillar, but still needed to support himself to avoid hanging by the chains. He was colder, if that was possible and felt another long shiver run through his stiff body. How long he had stood there now he had no idea. His mind was still fuzzy, no doubt a lingering effect of whatever had been in the dart that had brought him down.

He caught movement to his right and flicked a wary gaze in that direction. A middle aged man with dark skin, fairly large by the look of him, decked out in what looked to be an old army jacket and faded jeans… Just what he needed, some sort of Vietnam Vet come to blow him to hell…

"There's other ways of killing yourself where they wont be picking bits of your body up half way `cross town, son…" The voice was deep, soothing almost.

Vin sighed, "Yeah and after I chained myself to this pillar here, I couldn't work out how to light the friggin' match," he said sarcastically.

To his surprise the man chuckled. "I was just kidding, looks like you've got yourself in a nice pickle there."

Vin eyed the approaching man warily as he came further into the light. "Don't s'pose you have a phone on you?"

The man smiled and patted his top pocket. "Now as a matter of fact…"

Vin's eyes turned hopeful…

"…No."

"Sonofabitch," Vin muttered. He tipped his head back to the wall again, not caring if the man stabbed him to death and blew him up. He was beyond it all. He was standing under a concrete bridge, about to be blown to hell at any given second, talking with a vagrant.

"But if you've got some shrapnel on you, there's a phone just over the hill thataways."

Vin looked back at the man and saw him smiling at him as he approached, studying the set up around his vest and giving a low whistle.

"Son, you've got enough C4 here to take out the whole damn bridge, what country did you piss off?"

Vin gave a dry laugh, "Think he said he's from a place called Hell, or somewhere South of that area."

The man moved in closer still and studied the explosives and the mechanism put in place to set them off as Vin tried to avoid his hand.

"Hey there, I don't think you wanna be touchin' that."

The man ignored him. "Yep, tidy as…" he said thoughtfully as though he had expected as much. "He could trigger it at any second, from the other side of the planet if he wanted to."

Vin did not know what to make of the man. "Is that a fact..."

The man frowned a little and met Vin's eyes. "That's a certainty. In _fact_," he stepped back a little, "You probably aren't a good person to be hanging around right about now."

Vin frowned, "I'm usually a lot more approachable… Listen, can ya just call someone for me? If this thing goes off its not just me that's gonna get burnt here." He looked up at the bridge above him, still hearing the relentless traffic cross overhead.

The man smiled again. "Relax, I wasn't going to leave you here." Suddenly he bowed dramatically." Detective Hector Lonsdale, Explosives Expert and rescuer of homeless men strapped to bridges, at your service."

Vin's brow creased. "I ain't homeless…"

Hector moved forward again, "Ain't no shame in it son."

Vin frowned further at the man again inspecting the vest. "Yer a cop?"

Hector flashed him a smile, "I was many things... in another lifetime." He looked back down and continued working.

Vin took that as a 'no' and yet, there seemed something very cop-like about this man, military even. "So how about makin' that call fer me?" he tried again.

"Did two tours back in '63, got me a medal and all to show for it."

Vin considered that. "Then yer lookin' mighty good fer an' old feller." The man did not look much more than fifty.

Hector reached into one of the many pockets of his jacket, pulling out an army knife and taking out the pliers. "I've been living an uncomplicated life," he said, smiling to himself. "Does wonders for the skin."

Vin watched the man move to strip a wire on the device and pressed himself into the wall at his back. "Look, I really appreciate this an' all but really, I think the bomb squad might like a crack at this, give the boys a bit of a challenge, ya know? Maybe you can give them a call, fill `em in on what you've found here…?"

Before Vin could say anything else, Hector had a wire stripped and was studying it. "Oh, I think I can go one better than that," he said, his mind on the task at hand, his movements confident and sure. He saw the route to getting the jacket undone and that was his first concern. The bomb could go off at any moment and would take much longer to defuse than the trip mechanism set up to prevent the jacket being taken off. "Let's get you out of this life preserver."

Vin closed his eyes, ignoring the sweat that had begun to break out on his skin in the cool air. "I was kinda gettin' used ta the colour…"

Again Hector chuckled and flicked his glance at the young man. The kid had character, he admired that. "Maybe you can sell it when you get out of this, there's a few overseas markets I hear with a high demand for this sort of thing." He moved around behind the large pillar to look at the chain fastening the vest to the concrete.

It was Vin's turn to smile, "I'll send instructions to pull the red wire to inflate." He was grateful for the chit chat, not for a second did he forget that any moment could very well be his last. He heard a helicopter fly overhead slowly. '_Where are you guys?'_ he thought then. Was Chris still at the hospital? Had Buck finally arrived to pick him up? Again, he thought of Buck and cursed the tall agent under his breath. This was his doing… and if he got out of this, he was going to have his head on a plate.

..

Chris peered through the binoculars down to the area beneath the bridge, illuminated by the powerful searchlight that shone from beneath the helicopter. Police and emergency vehicles could be seen moving through the streets towards the area, their lights strangely beautiful, yet predatory in the night.

"Come on… Vin where the hell are you?" he said to himself. This was the third bridge they had looked under, the bomb squad waiting to move in as soon as they determined the location.

"Chris, _there_!" came a shout from JD beside him and he followed the pointing arm across to his left, spotting a dark figure beneath the bridge and focusing in.

"Get us closer!" he ordered the pilot through his headset and the helicopter moved closer in towards the ground.

Slowly the light moved in until they could clearly make out Vin's solitary form in the bright light. He did not look up.

"This is it, Vin's down there! Josiah you copy that? It's the southbound bridge, on the northern end, he's underneath the pylons," Chris relayed.

"Copy that, Captain, we're moving in," came Josiah's voice back in his headset from the second helicopter. He had ridden in with the bomb squad, allowing the rest of his team to travel in the one helicopter and to liaise between the two teams.

Chris remained focused on the still figure beneath them, Vin's hair not moving in the cold, but still night. He continued to watch for movement as the helicopter pulled up to land away from the overhead cables supporting the bridge's structure.

The bomb squad landed first and began unloading equipment as the ATF team touched down. Chris recognised George Steward, the squad's Captain and immediately approached him.

"Larabee," the tall man said, watching his team work quickly as he turned briefly to Chris and shook his hand.

"George."

"I know its one of your boys, Chris, but you have to let us handle this. Sanchez showed us the picture, it's not going to be easy, that thing could go at any second, you know that. I'm sending in two men with the robot, I need your team to stay back."

Chris only smiled. "No problem George," he said submissively as he walked off.

George watched the ATF Captain walk away with a scowl on his face. He knew Larabee well enough to know he wouldn't give in that easily, not where his men were concerned. They were a tight knit group, that was a part of what made them so damn good.

"Wait here boys," Chris whispered to his team, adjusting his head set as he walked by casually.

"Larabee!" Steward shouted and Chris turned back with an innocent expression. The older man cursed and shook his head. "Just don't touch the vest," he pleaded. As Chris walked off with a grin he yelled after him,

"It'll be rigged to go if you try and take it off! … You hear me Larabee?"

"I hear you!" Chris called back, picking up his pace. He wasn't going to touch it, but he _was_ going to make sure Vin was all right down there.

..

Vin had heard the helicopter before the light had reached him and kept his head bowed as it moved off. They had seen him, they had hovered in close enough to make him out. He heard it landing a safe distance away.

"Well, looks like the cavalry is here after all," Hector said as he continued working on the vest.

"How we doin' here?" Vin asked, trying to crane his neck to see behind the pillar, a futile mission.

"Just a… _oops_…"

"Oops?" Vin repeated, trying to see what the problem might be. "_Oops_?" he said again, his voice rising in growing panic.

"Nothing, nothing," Hector assured him, unbuckling the side of the black vest.

Vin continued to sweat, not liking the casual air of the man `helping' him. He was still cursing in sync to the deep chuckle behind him when he heard approaching footsteps and heard a familiar voice shout out.

"Vin! You all right?"

"Never better," Vin said with a wry expression.

Chris was relieved to see that Vin looked ok as he ran up to him, his side screaming at him from the jarring movement but his determination to reach his friend overriding his pain. "He's ok, boys, looks a little blue and his teeth are rattling, but he's all right," he told his team.

"You tell him we're waiting for him, Chris," Nathan said, smiling as Josiah slapped him on the back.

"Roger that," Chris said, grinning as he took in Vin's appearance in relief. "Jesus Cowboy, you're enough to give a man grey hair."

"Ah… I wouldn't worry `bout that, you'll prob'ly lose it all first `fore that happens." Vin realised his teeth really were chattering as he tried to get the words out coherently.

Chris grinned, sharing a look with Vin a moment that communicated their relief, fear and joy at seeing each other - alive, before he looked to the vest strapped around him. His fear was still causing his adrenaline to pump, but at least Vin was ok, for now…

"Bomb squad's right behind me, they'll get you out of this get-up," he assured him. "The boys want you to know they're waiting up there for you to get your sorry butt out of here."

Vin grinned. "Hell, they jist want me ta buy the first beer."

Chris grinned, "Yeah, that too."

Vin looked at him with a serious expression, noticing the way he stood, favouring his broken rib and fully aware of the blow he'd taken to his head earlier. "Get the hell out of here, Larabee," he told him as a long shiver ran down the entire length of him. "Let the squad handle this."

Chris merely grinned, "That ain't gonna happen."

Vin's eyes became angry and he leant forward the inch he could move in the chains that bound him. "I mean it Chris, this thing could go off any second. I don't want you chasin' me to hell, you get your own ride there."

Chris looked intently into Vin's worried face. "Prefer to catch a lift with you, if that's where your going..."

Vin cursed and tilted his head back as a rattle of metal alerted Chris that they were not alone and a large link of chain fell to the ground at his feet, still hooked through part of Vin's vest at the front, but freed from the wall. He jumped back in surprise and his hand went to his gun. "Put your hands up and come out where I can see you."

Hector peered around the pillar and smiled at the shocked ATF Captain. "You here about the bomb?"

Vin grinned and looked at Chris. "Chris, meet Hector, Hector, this is Chris, my Captain. Hector's been helpin' me outta this thing."

Chris looked from the dark man to Vin, wondering if maybe his friend had received his own blow to the head. How could he be so casual about a man in an army jacket fiddling with explosives strapped to his chest?

From Vin's point of view, he'd had nothing to lose… and he'd never be able to explain it exactly, but the man's help had felt, _right._ In a completely bizarre sort of way...

Hector began to unbuckle the vest as he winked at the speechless Chris.

"Hector?" Chris asked, still holding his gun aimed and quickly overcoming the shock that there had been a man behind Vin, concealed by the pillar.

Vin nodded and Chris looked to the large man who smiled back at him. "That's me, Detective Lonsdale by trade."

Chris felt his mouth open involuntarily in shock. "Lonsdale? _Hector Lonsdale_?" he said in complete disbelief.

"At your service, Captain Larabee."

"You two know each other?" Vin asked, confused.

Chris looked from Vin back to Hector, completely at a loss. "Only by his death notice."

Hector came around to face them and pointed to Vin's chest, not bothering to explain himself. "That thing's gonna go. I've defused the vest's trigger to save the bomb squad some time. You can bet Newton will be watching from somewhere, you'd better get this thing out of here." He looked at Chris and then at Vin in turn. "Then you go kill that motherfucker."

He moved back around behind Vin, Chris staring after him, not at all sure what to make of him, but somehow trusting him instinctively. It couldn't be the man from the picture earlier, he was too young.

"This is insane. You can't be him, you're too young. Not to mention you're supposed to be dead," he said into the shadow and received no answer. He looked again at the explosives on the vest and then to Vin's face, noticing the sheen of sweat on the younger man's skin despite the cold night air. "You ok, Vin?" he asked, noticing that his shivering was increasing.

"Just freezin' is all." They heard the bomb team moving in. "Bastard put a dart in my chest, knocked me out cold, woke up here."

Chris scowled. "Yeah Buck found the car, but you were gone."

"Alright, move back let's see what we've got!"

Chris moved back to allow them access. "Detective…" he paused, "Ah… Detective Lonsdale has already defused the trigger on the vest itself, he says it can come off."

The detectives looked at Chris strangely.

"Detective _who_?" One of the men said.

Chris pointed to the shadow behind the pillar and then dropped his hand. He really had no idea what he had seen.

The detectives frowned at each other and one moved behind Vin to take a look. He poked his head back out. "Ain't no one here, Captain…" he peered at Chris, noticed his dark eyes, his unsteady stance. "You alright Sir?"

Chris frowned at Vin before moving to look for himself. The detective was right, there was no-one there. He spun and looked around the dark area, seeing nothing. "Vin?"

"Yeah?"

Chris walked back to face Vin as the detectives got to work examining the device. "He was here, right?"

Vin nodded. "Mmm hmm."

A thought struck Chris then and he peered at Vin. "You _did_ hit your head, didn't you…" he accused, looking for a logical explanation.

Vin shook his head sincerely. "Nope. Sorry Pard, that was your trick today."

Chris opened his mouth to protest further, confused as he pointed at the vacated shadow and one of the detectives brushed by him. "Nathan? Boys? You heard Lonsdale through the headset right?"

Back up the top, the four ATF agents looked at each other.

"Well… we heard _someone_… and we heard you call him Lonsdale Chris," Josiah answered.

Chris did not know how to explain the man's presence with them a moment ago before he had disappeared into thin air.

"Well you were right, the vest has definitely been deactivated. Whoever did this knew what they were doing."

"OK, Agent Tanner, we're going to take it off real nice and slow now." The other detective said and pulled his microphone closer to his mouth. "Move the robot in, the device is free to move."

"That was quick, Bransby," the squad Captain said.

"The vest was already deactivated, Captain."

"Who, Larabee?"

The detective looked at Chris as the robot began to make its way toward them down the sloping footpath, directed in by remote control via the three camera's attached to its hull. "Apparently not Sir, he claims it was Detective Lonsdale."

George frowned. "_Lonsdale_?" Lonsdale had been an expert in the field. _Had_ being the important word. "He's dead for Christ sakes!"

"That's what I told him," Chris said flatly.

"Lonsdale…" Josiah repeated, "How is that possible?"

The four ATF agents looked at each other, bewildered. They had heard Chris's voice talking, but had not made out the other voice clearly.

A squad car approached the police barricade as Steward received further information from his men. Buck jumped out, flashing his badge and talking his way into the restricted area and heading straight toward his team.

"Captain," he nodded to Steward and then his friends, "Boys, miss me?" he asked them.

"You were absent?" Ezra asked innocently, not turning to face him.

Buck scowled at the southerner's back. "What's the latest?" he asked.

Steward answered him. "They have the vest off and will be placing the explosives in the robot shortly… Your Captain seems to think it was a Detective Lonsdale that removed the trigger on the vest."

"Who's Lonsdale?" Buck asked, not having been present at the meeting earlier.

"A prior victim of our Ginger Man," Nathan told him, "A dead victim."

Chris shook his head as he watched the vest be removed slowly and placed inside the robot's shell.

"Ok, device is secure."

"Let's get you out of this now…" They began to work on the final chain's securing Vin to the pillar. Vin was shivering so hard he couldn't do much more than try to keep from hindering them. He looked at Chris and could see the strain around his face. "Go back up, Chris, ya look like yer about ta fall down, I'll be up in a sec."

Chris smiled. "I'll go back up when you're off that wall."

"Is Buck up there?"

"I don't know. Is Buck with you boys yet?" Chris asked his team.

Ezra looked at Buck. "Yes, Agent Wilmington has decided to grace us with his presence."

"He's there," Chris told Vin, "He was searching the interchange by the cars all night for you."

Vin smirked. "Good, he'll be nice an' grumpy then. Tell him I sold all the CD's in his car ta get money fer oil."

They heard a loud beep and the four men froze.

"What the hell was that?" Vin whispered, looking at Chris for an explanation.

The two detectives looked up towards the roof above them.

"Jesus Christ, Captain, we have a second device!" One of the men shouted.

Chris and Vin immediately looked up and saw the red light flashing above them.

"Get him free!" One detective shouted and climbed up toward the red light.

Chris moved in to help with the chains as the other detective investigated. There was one last lock to go.

"It's on timer!" Came the voice from above. "Fuck! _Go go go!_ Get the fuck out of here! 60 SECONDS!" The man shouted even as he leapt to the ground and ran to help them.

"Get the hell out of there!" Steward called and turned to the detective with the remote control unit, "Get the robot out of there – now!"

"Damn… its not going," the detective muttered, trying to pry the lock with his pick for the third time.

"Don't panic," Chris said firmly, "It'll go." He kept his voice calm, even though inside he was about to explode himself as he tried to reassure Vin with his eyes.

"Go," Vin said, meaning it, his eyes steady.

Chris smirked. "Never."

Seconds ticked by as they saw the robot heading away up the path.

"Yes! I've got it," the detective said, finally releasing the lock and pulling the chain down.

They pulled Vin free, his legs weak from too long standing immobile in the cold and began to sprint away from the bridge, dragging him with them. He stumbled and Chris grabbed him around the waist, practically dragging him back up the footpath. The only sound heard was the pounding of feet and the laboured breathing that punctuated the still night air, even the insects seemed to have taken cover.

The detectives got slightly ahead as one shouted "DIVE!" at the last possible second and they all leapt across the line of shrubs running the length of the footpath. They hit the earth with sickening thuds a fraction of a second before the ground shook violently, seemingly from its very core.

The terrible blast spread its violent fury out through every space under the concrete structure, forcing apart everything that dared defy its rightful journey. The foundations shook and the force of the explosion rocketed through the man made creation, sending massive cables snapping free and flying with tremendous speed through the air, rocketing metal shrapnel like deadly missiles great distances in every direction. The massive ball of flame billowed up into the dark sky, carrying up the pieces of the proudly built framework and spitting them back to the earth in disdain, a shower of thick dust already starting to descend from the powdered concrete at the core of the blast. Massive support beams crumpled as shock waves sailed through the structure and the entire formation began its devastating collapse to the earth.

"Sweet Jesus…" Steward said, getting up from the ground where they had all dived for cover. They had received the tail of the blast even at the distance they had waited, so great was its power, yet were unharmed despite the flaming debris now sailing through the air.

"Bransby… Reagan, do you copy?"

No answer.

The five remaining members of Team Seven stood as one and began to run through the billowing dust and falling debris, shirts held up over their faces to avoid breathing in the thick dust and smoke as they shouted their friends' names.

"It's not safe – damn you ATF cowboys!" George yelled, seeing them run and knowing it was useless to protest. They would not wait for the emergency crews when they were there ahead of them.

**12. Beats Pencil Pushin' **

Newton sat back at the table and replayed the explosion one more time, his laughter bubbling up yet again. The second bomb had been a wonderful idea and he beamed with pride yet again at his creative thinking. He rewound again to the moment that the agents faces looked up to discover the red light looming above them and slapped a hand on the table. Marvellous. That was the only word he could find to describe the result. Simply marvellous. He thought about grabbing a bottle of wine to celebrate, but found himself rewinding to the man helping Tanner with the vest. He could not make him out, he did not have a clear enough view of his face. If he'd managed to get the vest off before Larabee got there, he would have had to blow the bridge early.

He followed with glistening eyes until the screen flickered and changed to static, then switched to an overhead feed from a neighbouring building, panning down on the emergency crews already storming the rubble he had so beautiful created.

"Good luck!" he laughed, finally pushing back and going to find the wine before he sat down to watch the scene yet again.

..

The night crept into the morning hours and still the emergency crews worked to find the four men known to be trapped in the blast. Tempers were fraying amongst the two teams first on the scene, for it was their men missing. They used bare hands and sheer determination to plough through wreckage and debris, their clothes, skin and hair completely covered in the smoke and dust that had rained down in the aftermath.

Floodlights lit the area and news helicopters were ordered away, although it did not stop the myriad of vans that lined the streets like vultures hovering for the first kill, the carefully made up reporters vying for some insight into what would no doubt be the biggest story to hit the city for a long, long time to come.

Some were careful not to get dirt on their perfect suits and immaculate hairdo's, although others, perhaps the more ingenious of the breed, decided it would make a nice touch to their "ground zero" coverage to get a little dirty, make the viewer feel like they were right there at the scene. After all, that's what the viewers needed now to alleviate their fear, to experience the aftermath as realistically as they could, from an endless supply of angles, for days on end. They knew what the public needed to see alright.

Two hours after the explosion, there was little distinction between the dust-covered earth and the five standing members of Team Seven. Each had become a silent, determined force as they had plundered through rock and metal, not daring to give up hope.

Nathan was on both knees, sifting through a pile when he looked over at Josiah and saw the preacher sanding stock still, looking out towards the flashing lights that now barricaded the area from the public. He got to his own feet and approached him.

"What is it, Josiah?"

Josiah blinked at the interruption to his thoughts and flicked the shorter man a glance. He shook his head slightly, looking back out at the hovering helicopters that were unable to cross into the blast zone. He knew that their high-powered lenses could read the label on his shirt, even from that distance.

"They can't have them," he said in a low voice.

Nathan frowned. "Who can't have who?"

Josiah jutted his chin at the helicopters. "Those circling buzzards, waiting for their story. They can't have their deaths."

Nathan frowned a little but said nothing.

"And God can't have them either," he said, looking down at Nathan. "What chance do they have, Nathan?" he waved a hand at the littered ground. "In this?"

Nathan lowered his head. Deep down, they all knew that the chances were slim. Josiah wanted to vent some frustration, he could see that - and was prepared to let him.

"Not much do they…" Josiah's voice rose to the sky, "And you can't have them!" he shouted.

Buck and JD looked at each other a moment where they worked close by and got up to see to Josiah as heads turned from all directions to see what the Agent was shouting about.

"You ok, Josiah?" Buck said in low voice, moving closer.

Josiah looked at him and smiled. "Why wouldn't I be? We've just lost two of our men tonight to a God who offers no comfort nor reason."

Buck frowned and stepped forward threateningly. "Hey, Preacher, you can think that if you want and stand there pondering the why's," he thrust an arm out to indicate the carnage, "but I'm gonna keep looking – cos they're in here somewhere – and they ain't dead!"

"Easy Buck," Nathan said and Buck turned on him.

"You think so too don't you! You agree with him!" he pointed to Josiah who now remained silent. Buck's voice dropped to a growl, "Well you can both go to hell." He turned his back on them and attacked the ground with renewed vengeance as JD watched silently, feeling torn apart by what was happening. He looked over to see where Ezra was and saw him studying the ground a short distance away, either not hearing them, or not wanting to get caught in the exchange.

Half an hour later there was an excited shout from a fireman a short distance away, further from the former bridge than they had been looking. Help converged around him to see what he had found.

Buck staggered towards them, JD behind him and Josiah and Nathan moving silently beside them. They saw the arm the man had found, surrounded by rock and debris, the rest of the body buried in the ground.

Buck looked down, his voice breaking. "Please God, no…"

As they continued to pull the man free, a paramedic felt the uncovered wrist and shook his head. Whichever man he was, he was dead.

JD looked at Buck who threw an arm over his shoulder without looking his way. He knew the kid would be a mess inside dealing with this and truth be known, he needed the support himself. Ezra was still haunched on his knees, looking over a section of ground as the men continued to pull the man free. He heard the shout of a grief-stricken man when the identity was revealed.

"Oh Jesus no, _Mike_!" A young detective ran towards the dust covered man now pulled clear from the ground and sank to his knees, overwhelmed by the death of his team-mate and friend.

Buck met Josiah's eyes and both looked away, not wanting to see the relief in the other's eyes. It was a devastating situation. One which they had all hoped, could end with no loss of life, but they could not help the feeling of reprieve that came with the news that the dead man was not their friend as they turned away and continued to pray while they searched. The dead detective gave them hope, but at the same time, showed them how little there really was, but they clung to that slim thread with everything they had - and collectively, that was a lot.

"Here, I think its Bransby," a squad detective said and began to uncover the back of a man's vest, right beside the spot the first detective had been uncovered.

"And the robot," came another voice.

"Jesus Christ, don't touch it!" Steward yelled, hearing the discovery and moving over to handle its removal. The thing was loaded, designed to handle blasts in its core, but full of explosives none the less. And it had already been blown up once.

Ezra had only moved a few feet in an hour as he continued his close search of the ground. The two detectives had been together… Vin had to have been weak after being immobile for so long… He moved closer to the men pulling the second body free, ignoring the site behind him of the shattered ruin of the former bridge, looking for all the world like a war zone. He kept his eyes on the ground, moving rubble with his ruined Armani shoes.

"Damn it, he's dead too!"

_"Fuck!"_

Ezra blocked out the grief around him that was manifesting itself as anger from the team-mates of the dead men that were already beginning to deal with their loss. There was hope yet - he still believed that. He _had_ to believe that. He could not lose them, not like this… There was always a way out in Ezra's mind, always a back door to escape through. His toe moved another rock and he saw a glint of metal…

Buck turned from the sight of the second body being lifted from the ground and saw Ezra bend sharply to the ground. Following his gaze he snatched JD's arm and pulled him with him. Josiah nudged Nathan and they too, moved to see what Ezra had found.

Ezra crouched down once more, daring to hope even as he reached out to touch the shiny metal he had caught in the overhead lights.

"Is that a ring?" JD asked as they stopped beside him.

Buck watched Ezra uncover the dusty hand and moved quickly to help him, "It's Chris's ring!" he said excitedly and they all surged to life with renewed energy.

Together they pulled the hand free and Nathan reached in to feel the slack wrist as JD and Josiah stepped in to help uncover him. They all waited for Nathan's prognosis with hearts and breathing all but stopped.

After countless seconds, Nathan gave a ghost of a smile, amazed that Chris could be alive under all of this. With consideration for the other team, he kept his voice lowered, "He's alive. Sweet Lord he's alive." The pulse was faint, but it was there.

They shared a joyous moment, containing their relief through a respect for the grieving team beside them. Josiah moved quickly to continue searching the ground, Vin would not be far from Chris's side, as Nathan signalled for help and the waiting medics swarmed in, immediately applying a cervical collar around Chris's neck as another began to assess his vital signs.

"There's a pocket here, under this concrete slab, it must have covered him, but his arm is about the only thing reaching the surface, we'll have to move it away," Buck said. "Need some help here!" he shouted out to the rescue teams.

"Buck," Ezra said suddenly, putting a hand to the kneeling man's shoulder, "Move back."

Buck looked up at Ezra and then down at the ground where the concrete slab continued to run beneath the top layer of rubble. Vin… he had to be close if Chris was right there. Cautiously he stepped back and waited as the rescue team moved in to remove the large, heavy slab. As it lifted slowly under the group effort of straining muscles, JD pointed to the newly exposed ground.

"There he is!"

They all looked down to see most of Vin's upper body free, having been hidden in the space the concrete had made. His head was tilted back and covered in dust, his hair all but blending into the ashen ground. Another waiting team of paramedics moved in and knelt by his side in the dirt.

"Pulse is thready - he's breathing!" came the much prayed for words and every person on the site felt uplifted that another man had been found alive after so long searching.

Ezra closed his eyes a moment and tilted his face to the overhead lights. 'Thank you.' He lowered his head and smiled at Nathan when he felt his hand on his back.

A medic listened to Vin's chest to assess his breathing while another took his vital signs as the other team had done for Chris. "BP's 82 over 50. Heart rate is 120."

"He's pinned," the other medic said as they all eyed the beam that ran across his stomach. "We'll try to stabilise him but we need to get him out of here stat."

Buck watched them place a cervical collar around Vin's neck and reach for an IV set up as he continued to help clear the rubble so that they could move the large support beam that was holding Vin and Chris trapped to the ground. It had fallen right across them, pinning them, yet without it, there is little chance that they would have survived. The concrete that had rested on top of it at an angle had given them the precious space they had needed to avoid being suffocated by the fallout.

"We need to move – _now_!" A paramedic working on Chris said, trying to get to the blood coming beneath the heavy metal that lay across his chest. "He's bleeding under here." He tried to assess what damage existed beneath the weight of the metal beam as firemen moved in to help the ATF team get them free.

The other medic continued to tend to whatever exposed injuries they could get to on the trapped Captain, setting up an IV and running it wide open. "Check his blood pressure again."

JD stood looking at the scene playing out before him, overwhelmed by the emotions racing through him that vied for supremacy. The sounds surrounding him merged into a low murmuring as he was suddenly overwhelmed by his emotions. Relief, fear, anger, helplessness… This was his family, his life… and two of them were bleeding into the ash and dust right at his very feet. He stared silently at the still burning bridge just a short distance away, the fire fighters working hard to bring it to heel. Somewhere inside, he wanted to shout, to release all of the emotions building inside of him. When they had found Chris alive, he had wanted to grab Buck and whoop with joy in relief, for the miracle of it all. Yet as he eyed the quiet team removing the bodies of their lost friends just feet away, he knew that would not happen, out of deserved respect for their grief and their loss. He felt a comforting weight across his shoulders and looked up at Josiah who smiled at him warmly.

"We have witnessed a miracle this day, Brother," Josiah said to him, his low voice soothing and familiar as he quietly shared his joy with him at having found Vin and Chris alive after so long searching.

Somehow just that comfortable, familiar arm of support and the voice that accompanied it, brought calm to JD's soul and he found the smile that he had been looking for, that he had been too afraid to give in the fear that it would be premature. With that relief, noise returned in a rush to the frantic scene surrounding him.

"One – two – _three_!"

Again muscles strained as the heavy beam was lifted and pulled away from the battered bodies beneath its path. A low moan escaped Vin as he fought to rise from his unconscious state. Sterile dressings were torn out of packets in a frenzy to control the wounds exposed on the two men, bleeding anew with the absence of the terrible pressure that had sat over them for so long. Despite the urgency to get the injured to hospital, the medics ensured that spinal precautions were taken as they carefully manoeuvred them onto backboards.

"Strange that they ended up on their backs, is it not?" Ezra said, wincing as he heard another noise of pain from Vin but was unable to get close to him just then to reassure him.

JD glanced at Ezra who had stood back to join them, giving the men room to work.

"The blast would have thrown them forward after they dived, they probably hit the ground and rolled," Josiah thought out loud.

"That beam was both a blessing and a curse," Nathan said, joining them and dusting himself off in vain. "It stopped them being killed, if it doesn't kill them first."

"How did they look, Nate?" Buck asked, having moved aside also to give the paramedics more room when the beam had been removed. He stepped closer to hear the medic's answer.

Nathan shook his head slightly. "They've made it this far…" he hedged. "That beam pinned them pretty good, caught Chris across the chest, he's got more broken ribs most like, and there could be internal bleeding. Vin was cut pretty deep across his stomach…"

"I've lost his pulse!"

_Chris floated in an orange sea of fire, yet was not warm in its glow. He was… weightless, he felt… nothing. He simply sailed through space like dust caught in the sunlight, just drifting, hanging in time. A spot appeared before him and he drifted toward it gently, slowly as it grew into a shape. A beautiful face, smiling for him; a hand reaching out to touch his cheek, her skin so warm on his own. Dear Lord… *Sarah*. _

Vin became aware of the pain long before he opened his eyes. He knew instinctively, that moving anything would be a big mistake. His low moan of pain had alerted the medics to his awareness before his eyes had fluttered open, revealing their startling blue depths that stood vivid against the mass of pale dust that seemed to coat everything in sight, both living and not.

Ezra moved forward, regardless of the medical team and sat by the Texan's side, taking a filthy hand and giving a reassuring squeeze as Vin's eyes found his. At that moment, Vin felt the pressure being applied to his stomach and closed his eyes quickly on a growl of pure torture, feeling a mask slip over his face as his breathing became harsh.

"He's gone," he heard a voice say.

"No!" Buck yelled pushing forward, "you keep going damn it! He won't give in this way! Not after we found him alive!"

_Her smile grew before she removed her hand and turned away and he felt panic and loss flood his heart. *No… please!* But she turned back and this time her hand held another's as she led the small child forward before him. *Oh God, Adam… son…* His child smiled at him. Neither of them spoke but Chris felt their __message, their love. They spoke of forgiveness, of happiness, of patience… *I – miss - you,* he said, his voice barely able to work through his desperately tight throat and once more she came close to him. Her face moved in, an ethereal sweetness that was somehow not blinding, but overwhelmingly comforting. He was home… He simply stood transfixed as she filled his vision, her face touching his own, a -part- of his own, before she moved back and smiled once more and turned, her son following her. He felt content, almost. Still sad, but no longer filled with the terrible grief. This time he let her go. She had left with happiness in her heart, with promises of an eternity to be shared, when the time was again theirs to share it_.

Buck almost fell to his knees as they continued to work on Chris, desperately trying to breathe life back into him and stimulate his heart to beat again. "Don't you dare die on me… don't you fucking die on me…" he said in a broken voice, his hands clenched tight. Finally he could take it no more and lunged forward to kneel beside him, touching his hand. "You get back here, damn you! It ain't your time!"

Vin heard Buck's plea and once more opened his eyes, reaching up a hand and trying in vain to move his head to see Chris. He lifted a hand to his throat, wanting out of the collar restricting his neck.

"Easy, Vin…" Ezra said, placing a hand on Vin's shoulder.

"You have to leave that on, Sir…" A hand held Vin's own still.

Vin almost snarled as the paramedic stopped him moving his head and reached out his free hand to Buck's leg blindly. Buck turned, surprised to see Vin looking up at him and looked from one man to the other before speaking harshly to Chris.

"What about Vin, huh buddy? You care what happens to him? You just gonna up and leave him like this you selfish son of a bitch?"

"Buck," Nathan moved forward to pull Buck back but the grief-stricken man refused to budge. He studied the lifeless face, covered in dust and shook his head, turning back to Vin with tears in his eyes.

Vin saw the desolation in Buck's face and closed his own eyes to the sight. He couldn't reach Chris but he could tell him what he thought. "Wake the fuck up Larabee..." he said in a rough, barely-there voice filled with pain. "This ain't no time to be quitin' on me."

Buck turned back to Chris just in time to see a drop of moisture make its way out and cut a trail through the pale dust a second before the paramedics felt his chest rise and stopped their life saving actions.

"I'll be damned," one of them whispered quietly, a little in awe.

Buck looked back to Vin's still closed eyes, seeing his relaxed fingers had relaxed and knowing that he'd passed out on a wave of pain. Buck moved forward on his knees and touched the top of the filthy long hair, unable to speak. _'Nice work, Junior. Now you hang in there too.'_

**13. Mothers Good Advice **

There was silence in the wake of the men being transported to the waiting ambulances. The paramedics moved quickly and professionally to speed up the transport, but the five agents following them were quiet, reflective. It had been a long night and they need only look at the faces of Steward and his men, to know that it had been a tragic one. All too easily, it could have been them, mourning the loss of their brothers.

They formed a united force around Chris and Vin as they were carried through the rubble and placed in the backs of the two waiting vehicles. Prying lenses were not far away and they knew that this would be the shot they were after to headline the papers in the next editions. They wanted to protect them from that, the two men that both would do everything possible to avoid being exploited in such a way publicly, that would do everything they could to protect any one of them if the situation called for it.

Ezra considered the body bags that were being moved in solemn silence close by and looked again at the ambulances, ready to leave. This was not over, that much was a certainty, not whilst Chris was still alive. He stopped Buck with a light hand to his sleeve as the taller man moved towards the waiting squad cars and the rest of the team stopped with them, all looking a little lost as their adrenaline ran down. They were all dirty and tired, looking like they had just rolled through the ashes of a cold camp fire.

"It has occurred to me, that this game has not yet ended," he told them all.

JD looked at Ezra curiously. "You mean he's going to go after them again?"

"Indeed, until he has achieved his goal, he will not stop."

Buck looked at the vehicles as they turned on their sirens and pulled away. "Then we need to get after them –"

"Or we need to kill them before he can."

Buck scowled at the blunt words and then felt Nathan's hand on his chest.

"He's right," he gave Ezra an admonishing look, "he might not have put it in the best possible way, but he has a point. He'll check the hospitals and be watching the news coverage, we need to get him the message that they are already dead."

Ezra looked at Buck, then all of them in turn. "…I believe the question we need to ask ourselves, is how do you catch a Gingerbread Man?"

The all looked at him strangely for a moment before JD spoke up. "You lure him to the alligators back!"

"Precisely." Ezra gave him a small smile.

"Then you turn and bite his head off," JD added, remembering the childhood tale.

Buck smiled briefly, now _that_ he liked. His face was grave, however, as he spoke, turning to enter a police car for a ride to the hospital. "Let's just hope that we ain't reporting the truth anyway."

With that they all moved to the cars, praying that there was a good ending to their story.

..

Newton flicked the channel of his wide screen television yet again. He had already heard the report several times, but could not get enough of the coverage.

THE TRAGEDY CLAIMED THE LIVES OF FOUR MEN, TWO BOMB SQUAD DETECTIVES WERE PRONOUNCED DEAD AT THE SCENE, ANOTHER TWO ATF AGENTS WERE REMOVED FROM THE RUBBLE IN CRITICAL CONDITION, BUT WERE ANNOUNCED DEAD ON ARRIVAL AT THE HOSPITAL.

He grinned and went to his computer, wanting to collect as many accounts of the incident as he could, to feed his own ego, which was beginning to consume his common sense. He was beginning to feel invincible, like he could do anything he wanted, that the limit was endless to his possibilities. He entered his system and began to pry into the government servers, looking for the official reports of the incident. He liked this feeling, this sense of accomplishment. Tonight, he had affected the entire city and the shock waves of his glory were reverberating across the entire country and beyond. It started with Larabee's death and rippled out from there. He needed to celebrate, he needed to stop and simply enjoy his moment… and he needed to think about his next project. Killing for money was great, but now he knew what he really wanted to do with his life.

..

It was quiet in the secluded waiting room, the five tired bodies slouched around the meagre furniture weary and sore. They remained in their ruined clothes, although the cuts and scrapes on their hands and legs from tearing through the rubble had been cleaned and attended to. A TV played quietly in the corner, showing the report that they had themselves manufactured with the help of the ATF's Director, Orin Travis. False reports had been entered into the government's registry, knowing that the bomber would try to access them… and they would be waiting. Waiting for him to climb up the alligator's back and if he did, they would be ready to tear his head off.

It was a long wait, with both men in surgery, fighting for their lives. There was little they could do but pray silently and nurture thoughts of their revenge. They had been informed that both of their friends had been in shock by the time they had reached the emergency room, both with temperatures alarmingly low. Blood had been warmed in advance to be given to them as quickly as possible to replace the high amounts they had lost from their abdominal and chest wounds.

JD had fallen asleep on a hard couch, leaning on Buck by the time a nurse came with new information.

"Oh fuck…" Buck said under his breath and Nathan raised an eyebrow at him curiously.

"You!" she said with obvious dismay as her eyes found Buck, her deep red hair catching in the light.

Buck actually looked sheepish as he muttered, "Ma'am…"

She cleared her throat, blocking out the image of the man who had ruined her new shoes.

"How are they, ma'am?" Josiah asked, sitting stiffly at the small table with Nathan, Ezra having gone to call the office for an update. The large man had not moved from his seat since they had arrived. He sat still and patient, praying that the news would be good.

The image of their two friends, lying amongst the torn ground covered in rubble and ash, was still at the surface and was something none of them would ever forget. The waiting and searching, the tension as they had waited to see if they were alive and still they waited, could not give in to their hope, for it could be torn from them in an instant, with one negative shake of a nurses head or two uttered words, 'I'm sorry.'

They looked up at her now, the fear and worry obvious as they looked to her for good news. As she smiled softly to them, they felt the first glimmer of light enter the room.

"Mr Larabee seems to want to take up a permanent residency with us this week," she smiled at them, trying to relieve their serious expressions.

Buck grinned slightly. "With pretty nurses like you, ma'am, its no wonder."

JD groaned, only half awake but hearing the pathetic retort and wishing he hadn't.

The woman turned a wide smile on Buck that somehow sent a chill up his spine. "Is that so, Mr Wilmington… Perhaps you could show your appreciation for my beauty by paying the cleaning bill for my shoes?"

Buck grinned at her, "Hey, the offer for dinner's still there."

The woman's nails bit into her palms as she focused on the information she had come to impart.

"Mr Larabee fractured several ribs where the beam hit his chest, but is stable and recovering well."

"But he stopped breathing – his heart stopped," JD said, sitting up.

"His arrest at the site was attributed to a myocardial contusion - a bruised heart. We are monitoring him and keeping an eye on his blood work, but believe he will make a full recovery. We also performed another CT scan which did not reveal any complications to his prior head injury."

Buck closed his eyes and leant his head back. Chris was going to make it… He could not react, his emotions were still too unsettled. He opened his eyes and saw the nurse looking at him, yet there was no hostility this time as they shared a brief look.

"And Vin?" Nathan asked.

"Mr Tanner was caught across the stomach from the structural beam and the laceration was quite deep. He suffered internal bleeding and a ruptured spleen."

"Will he be ok?" JD asked, not hiding the fear in his voice for his friend.

The woman looked at him and smiled. "They had to remove his spleen. His right leg was also broken and it was a bad break. They're moving him now and I won't lie to you, his condition is still serious, but he's stable. The doctor's believe that he, too, will make a full recovery in time."

The men took this information in quietly. Vin had made it this far, he would get through. He was a fighter, that had to count for something.

The nurse looked at their solemn faces and smiled once more. They obviously needed a moment to accept her good news after all they had been through. She turned to leave and was suddenly stopped by two strong arms that spun her back around.

Buck had risen silently and approached her before she could move away. She did not have time to blink when he had grabbed her fiercely in a bear hug and twirled her once around before putting her back down, pulling back and giving her a resounding kiss straight on the lips before whooping with joy.

"Thank you darlin'!" he said with a grin at her completely shocked expression. "My boys are gonna be Oh-Kay!" His smile lit the room as he looked to his team-mates to see if the news had sunk in with them yet.

Nathan shook his head at the dirt that covered the woman's pristine uniform and they all grimaced as she looked down at her ruined attire, Buck completely oblivious for a thankful moment before he turned back to see what they were all grimacing about.

His blue eyes looked slowly down and he finally realised what he had done, watching as her flaming eyes rose up slowly and bore into his, her face white in her outrage.

"… Now darlin', that ain't as bad as it looks…"

Ezra walked through the doorway just as the nurse stormed out, elbowing past him in her hurried departure. He watched her retreat down the hallway, huffing in agitation before he raised a brow at Buck.

"Another lesson in charm gone awry, Mr Wilmington?"

"She overreacted," Buck grumbled, looking at the ground, trying to think how he was going to make it ok with the woman who God seemed fit to have hate him. A woman – hating _him._ It was just not on.

"They're gonna make it, Ez. The nurse said they'll both recover fully," JD told him.

Ezra paused at that, letting the good news replace the hollow void of fear that had ridden in his stomach all night. "Well, that _is_ good news." He said softly, thankfully.

"…And Buck showed us how to send a woman crying from the room with just one move."

Buck turned and scowled at JD.

"It's all in the technique, I believe, Mr Dunne."

Buck whirled back to face Ezra and suddenly a massive grin spread over his face and the wary southerner took a step back, but not in time before Buck had him, too, in a lung-crushing bear hold and proceeded to lift the smaller man off the ground, bouncing him twice to the ground before dropping him back in a spluttering heap.

"How's _that_ for technique Ez?"

Ezra began dusting himself off with earnest, despite the fact that he had been completely filthy before Buck had touched him. He was completely affronted by the invasion of his personal space. "You have the manners of a boar, Mr Wilmington."

"Any news, Ezra?"

Ezra stopped brushing and looked at Josiah. "Indeed, Mr Sanchez…" his expression was serious. He looked at the four men in the room. "Would you gentlemen care to join me on a little excursion this fine morning? I believe we have a cookie to bake."

..

The back streets of the city were quiet, the working day was still nothing more than a nightmare in the sleeping minds of the workers still at home in their warm beds when the teams of ATF and bomb squad detectives converged on a lone street.

Under Moriss's direction, they had planned their approach, he having been on the case the longest, now that Tucker was awaiting trial. Still dirty, but changed into protective clothing, Team Seven had joined Team four and a multitude of professional operatives to seal off the area and storm the premises own by Wade Newton, aka the Ginger Man. He had taken their bait and looked into the official reports they had placed on the system and they had followed his long trail home with a frenzied chase of computer wizardry.

As they moved up the narrow alley, they allowed the agents with their explosive detection canines to move ahead of them to the entrance of the building. Looking up, Buck saw the many agents already in position on the rooftop of the next building and for a moment, could picture Vin up there with them. They should have been here to take the sonofabitch down, both Vin and Chris.

Signalling to follow, the agents up ahead entered the double doored entry and stopped in a foyer with a single elevator and a stairwell. There was a woman exiting the building who stopped before them. She was attractive, although her attire was poor and she looked completely out of place in the cold morning air, surrounded my government agents.

"You're looking for Newton."

They were all surprised.

"Yes ma'am," Buck said.

She smiled a wide smile as her head turned slightly to the sound of his voice. "He's not up here," she whispered then and pointed to the floor, "He's down there."

"How do we get down there, ma'am?" Nathan asked her.

"Outside, a side entrance, he enters like a mouse under the building… infecting its foundations…" her face looked distant a moment… "like a mouse scurrying through the feet of the damned…"

Nathan shook his head and saw that he was not the only one affected by the strange presence of the woman. The rest of his team and the other agents all cut a quick path for her as she moved through them to leave.

"Outside it is then," Buck finally said, breaking the weird moment and they left the building to enter the alley once more.

Again the dogs lead the way and they found a narrow set of steps with a metal doorway at the bottom. They waited patiently as the explosives detection team worked to determine any traps and finally saw them move in. The door had been unlocked…

The first thing the men noticed was the cold. The lavishly furnished room was set to a ridiculously low temperature. They moved forward cautiously, all tense and alert for the smallest of movements. When loud laughter began to play into the room, there was not a man or dog who did not jump in fright. A multitude of weapons swung towards a lone computer sitting at a bench and slowly, the vengeant force moved forward, remaining silent and communicating only with sharp gestures of their hands.

They saw the mass of tools and electronic equipment on the large table as they moved closer, all tools of a deadly, cowardly trade.

JD tapped Bucks sleeve and pointed to a half eaten packet of candies resting on top of a book. Buck used his gun to nudge aside the packet to reveal the title of the thick volume and shaking his head, drew Josiah's attention to it also. ****Embrace Satan And You Shall Be Forever Strong** **

Josiah shook his head also as the laughter surrounding them slowly died down and an image began to form on the screen, row by row horizontally. Several agents continued to explore the room as Team Seven watched the screen closely. A familiar ginger bread man began doing a little dance.

****Run run as fast as you can, you can't catch me I'm the gingerbread man.** **

"Dammit!" Buck said loudly. He knew! The bastard knew they were coming.

"He knew… " Nathan repeated Buck's thoughts.

Ezra's face was hard as he looked at the screen and the laughing picture.

As the first dog sat obediently on the floor and gave a single bark, all men in the apartment froze, wherever they were and turned to look. They all knew what that sound meant. In silence, two agents cut back a square of carpet and pulled it back, revealing a smooth and well-made door that entered the ground. Signalling each other, they opened it and after sharing a flashing look of panic, leapt to their feet causing all hell to break loose.

"Everyone out! It's gonna blow, everyone clear the hell out – _NOW_!" came the frantic shout as men began running for the doorway.

"Pull out, everyone pull out!" came the relayed shout and the ATF agents did not have to be told twice as they turned and sprinted for the exit.

JD led the charge for his team with Ezra beside him and Nathan, Josiah and Buck all right on their heels. They reached the end of the alleyway and kept running, putting as much distance as possible between them and the bomb before its blast tore through the lower level, knocking them all off their feet in an instant and scattering men in every direction. Before they had a chance to pick themselves up, a second blast rocketed through the concrete jungle and this time it took most of the six story building out with it.

They could only watch as the building shook and slowly disintegrated in a devastating heap to the ground, just like they had seen so many times on demolition footage, only this was no demolition, this building had not been prepared in advance to contain a blast. Concrete and debris flew in all directions, pieces finding them amongst the smoke that drifted over to them and there was little they could do bar try and protect themselves once again.

Buck suddenly jumped on top of Ezra and rolled with him along the ground.

"What are you? Unhand me! Get –"

"Shut up Ezra, your coats on fire," Buck told him, slapping him repeatedly to put out the last smouldering spark.

"Do you really consider that much force to be – nec - ess – ary?"

Buck finished and dragged Ezra back up, making sure the fire was out. He gave the disoriented southerners arm a final hard whack, "Didn't want to see you gettin' hurt now, Ez!" he grinned and turned back to the flaming building.

Ezra took a moment to compose himself. "Of course not…" he mumbled.

"Guess he saw the alligator coming," Nathan said as they all stood in the orange glow of the flames in the cold morning air.

Ezra continued to watch the building continue to come down before them, the sounds of sirens already approaching in the distance. "Mother did always say not to believe in fairy tales," he said in a flat voice, the flames of the burning building reflecting in his eyes.

..

**ONE MONTH LATER… **

"'Nuther round boys?" Nathan asked, leaving the table and heading for the bar. "I have to go, but the next buy was mine."

"Not for me!" Buck said, finishing his beer and slapping his hands on the table, he grinned at his six friends as he pushed up from his chair. "I got a nurse to see to."

Nathan looked at Buck in disbelief, "Surely not that woman that hates you."

Buck only smiled as he grabbed his jacket, looking smug. "It's a fine line Nathan, a fine line between love and hate… and with the right coaxing, a woman can be swayed in either direction."

They all looked at each other, shaking their heads as a slow drawl spoke quietly. "You have a dance fer me, Bucklin."

Buck's grin faded a little as he looked down at Vin's innocent expression. He might look injured and vulnerable at the moment, his cast leg propped up on a chair, his face still healing from scratches and bruises and one hand still resting protectively across his stomach, but Buck knew the Texan wanted payback and knew it was only a matter of time before he was well enough to try something. "What's that supposed to mean, Tanner?"

Vin shrugged his shoulders slightly and sipped his beer, licking his bottom lip as he looked up at the weary man. "Don't mean nothin', it's just an expression. Yer a might paranoid there."

Buck continued to study Vin's face for a moment, a feeling of great unease starting in his belly. He looked at

the rest of them. "Yeah… well… I will, Junior, I will… You all enjoy your beers now."

There were muttered goodbyes and with one last weary look at Vin, Buck left. A moment later Chris shook his head. "Cowboy, was nice knowin' you." He tipped his beer towards Vin in farewell.

Vin only grinned. "Hell, he had it comin'. Stranded me out on the road, almost got me blown all ta hell… He's expectin' it Chris, he'd be disappointed if I didn't retaliate."

Chris just shook his head as JD grinned. "She didn't really call him did she?"

"Heck yeah she called him."

JD looked confused and Vin's grin only grew.

Ezra looked at Vin with interest. "And where, pray tell, have you sent our poor comrade into the night?" He was impressed with Vin's skills of exacting punishment, as always. He often thought he did not want to be on the receiving end of the Texan's wrath.

"Oh… just a little bar 'cross town… Nice cosy place, he'll fit right in." He tipped the last sip of his beer to his lips with a mischievous grin.

"Well, I'm heading off too," Josiah said, getting up. "Any of you boys want a lift?"

"Yeah, thanks, Josiah, Buck's taken the car," JD said thankfully. Buck's priorities never faltered.

"How about you, Ezra? Another drink?"

Ezra smoothly stood and slipped into his coat. "No, thank you Mr Jackson. I need to return home and remove my fingernails with pliers in preparation for my mother's visit."

Nathan laughed. "Pain tolerance, Ezra?"

"You have no idea, Mr Jackson." He turned to his friends, "Gentlemen."

Again there were muttered goodbyes.

"How 'bout us, Nathan?" Chris asked the healer who was preparing to leave without extending the offer to either him or Vin.

Nathan gave him a sour look. "You've had your quota, you two should be home, not sitting here breathing in all this smoke and stale beer."

Vin sniffed the air, "It's got healin' properties, Nathan, don't ya know?"

"Mmmm, good for the soul," Chris agreed, to which Vin nodded.

Nathan picked up his keys and stood with Josiah and JD. He was going to comment again about them being out when they should be at home resting from the injuries that were still healing, but knew it was a futile goal. Instead he leant forward and spoke softly. "You just remember to watch your backs."

The five of them were quiet a moment, they had purposely not brought up the topic of the still at large criminal that had caused them all such grief as they had taken off work early to head to the bar to unwind. It had been a long month of hospital visits and recovering as the trail to the illusive Ginger Man had quickly grown cold. Chris and Vin had returned to the office and the tension had slowly risen as each day passed without a lead on the assassin. Not only had he disappeared, but Giorgi had again dropped out of sight. It had been a frustrating month as they had begun to deal with new cases that came their way and they had finally had to face the fact that neither case may ever be closed. The man could be anywhere and may never surface again. Still, there was the constant knowledge that he might, at any time and that was what could drive them crazy, if they let it.

Chris had finally decided enough was enough and had called them into his office. If they were going to have any chance at getting back to their normal lives, they had to move on. If they changed the way they lived, then the bastard would have won. If he ever returned, then so be it. They could still try and locate him, but that had been assigned to a new team. Most suspected he had left the country already. He ordered they take the afternoon off for some down time, where the topic could not under any circumstance, circulate to the Ginger Man.

He looked at Nathan solemnly a moment. "Always, Nathan." He nodded to JD and Josiah, "Goodnight boys."

"'Night Chris, Vin," JD said and Josiah too nodded as they all left.

As soon as they had gone, Chris got up and went to the bar, not having to ask if Vin wanted another beer. He returned and sighed as he sat down.

"You feelin' ok?" Vin asked him. He knew that Chris had been declared fit to return to work a few weeks ago, but was still worried about his friend's injuries. A bruised heart might be considered something not uncommon in accidents, particularly in cars, but it was not something that he would ever take lightly, not where Chris was concerned. He had stopped breathing, his heart had refused to beat… that scared the hell out of him.

"Fine… just thinking…"

They had each spent over a week in the hospital recovering. He remembered the first few days of confusion, trying to piece together what had happened, worrying whether Chris had made it out alive. He did not understand how they had made it, but no longer questioned it. They were alive, that's all he cared about. There were so many questions left unanswered it could drive them insane. On a long talk with Chris one night in the hospital, they had come to the conclusion that the only way to deal with it was to live in the now and not worry about what was out of their hands. They were still alive to take on the next challenge the world threw at them and that's all that mattered in the end, that they face it together. He remembered Chris smiling as he looked out the window of his room.

"I've been thinking a lot about that place you were talking about a few weeks back. That place in the mountains those ex-cops started for a little R and R." He looked back over his shoulder. "Was thinking some fishing might be a nice change of pace for a week."

Vin grinned. "Won't argue with that."

He looked at Chris now as they sipped their beers. "As long as yer thinkin' sunshine, clear water, beer and fish, I'm with you."

Chris looked at him and Vin knew that's not what his friend had been thinking. He sighed. "Thought we weren't allowed to think about it tonight?"

Chris shook his head slightly, "Can't stop," he said softly. He looked up. "I never really knew what I believed about life and death, about what happens, where we go… I never really had a set idea on that… But after this… I think there must be something."

"You thinkin' 'bout Hector?"

One of the biggest mysteries had been the mysterious appearance of Hector beneath the bridge. He had saved Vin's life that night in getting him free before the bomb squad had arrived, yet he was most definitely deceased. There was a giant question mark on their report that was still under review.

"And that woman they saw at Newton's apartment." To top it all off, the woman at the apartment building had been identified as Laura Wyan… the deceased woman who had set free a toy mouse in a courtroom and taken the lives of many, before she herself was killed in a car bomb on the way to the police station.

Vin studied his beer. "Saw a show once, 'bout these people that died but couldn't go into the next world til they'd tied off some loose ends… they were stuck in between."

Chris grinned then and looked at Vin. "Was that 'show' maybe the movie 'Ghost'?" He'd caught Vin watching it once and had long suspected the Texan had had a tear in his eye when he'd walked in.

Vin scowled. "_No_…" he grinned then and shrugged, "maybe… anyway, I was thinkin', maybe they had to see about Newton before they could pass on to the next life, ya know?"

Chris thought about that. "If you believe in that sort of thing…"

Vin smiled, "Which you don't."

Chris raised his bottle to his lips and grinned. "Exactly."

They were silent a moment before Vin spoke again. "Well, since ya brought it up," he said casually and then his eyes were serious. "This guy might be out there, one step ahead of us forever. If he keeps his nose clean, he might just walk away from this and never pay for his crimes."

Chris thought about that. "I'm betting he won't be able to stop himself. He loves what he does, thrives on it. It's who he is." He looked at Vin. "He'll show himself again… I'd put money on it."

Vin smiled, "Lucky Ez's ain't here, he'd have that money in his pocket already fer keepin'."

Chris smiled. "Don't I know it… besides, everyone faces their sin's sooner or later, there's no escaping that. That's something I _do_ believe."

They finished their beers in companionable quiet before Chris looked at his watch. "Well, guess I can give you a lift home if I hurry."

Vin raised a brow at his best friend. "Hurry fer what?"

Chris grinned as he winked. "My date."

"You got a date? Who with?"

Chris's grin only grew, "Someone a hell of a lot prettier'n you son."

Vin concentrated, trying to work out who it was and finally grinned as they stood up to leave, Chris handing him his crutches.

"Ah… well then, you go pick up yer mail, Larabee, I got some place ta be, too."

Chris frowned as Vin put his crutches under his arms and settled his weight. "You knew?" He scowled.

Vin laughed. "Weren't hard to figure out. You ain't exactly been out hangin' in singles bars meeting women lately. She's about the only one you've met, Jesus and that was through work, that's pretty sad."

Chris smiled as he remembered how she had bowled him over in the park, the day it had all started. "Where are you going anyway? And how are you planning on getting there like that?" He eyed Vin's leg and crutches.

Vin grinned as they moved to the door. "Unlike Bucklin, I really do have a date with a red headed nurse…"

Chris's mouth dropped a little, the Texan still managed to shock him sometimes, actually a lot of the time.

"You didn't ask her out…" he looked at Vin and then laughed, "Jesus you _did_!" He kept laughing as they left.

"Come on, I'll give you a lift. Once Buck finds out I might not see your sorry hide again."

Vin kept smiling as he pictured Buck entering the bar… yep, revenge was definitely best served cold.

..

**ACROSS TOWN**

Buck sprayed a little more aftershave on and checked his teeth in the rear-view mirror before he got out of the car and pocketed his keys, whistling as he stepped with a bounce to the entrance of the bar. As he walked closer he thought it odd that the place seemed so quiet. It was a small place tucked into a dark street, towards the rougher end of town. He had not questioned her choice of location though truth be told he would have met the spitfire anywhere.

He got to the large wooden door and had to work hard to get it open. Immediately there were two bouncers inside.

"You have a ticket? There's a cover charge tonight."

Buck frowned. "What? I'm supposed to meet someone here tonight."

"I don't think so, buddy, not without a ticket."

Buck pulled out his wallet, already scowling. "How much?"

"Fifty dollars."

"_American?_" Buck exploded. "Who the hell is playing here, the President?"

"You can always go home," the bouncer advised him.

"Alright, alright! _Jesus_… here!" he parted with his money and the bouncer smiled.

"Thank you sir, right through there." He pointed through the next set of doors.

Buck muttered as he put his wallet in his back pocket and walked to the next doors, again pushing at them to enter, having to use force to get them open. "Who the hell built this place, Hercules?" he muttered again. He pushed through and stopped.

"What the fuck…?" He whispered.

Inside there was no bar, only rows of chairs all facing a speaker who stopped when he entered. What was worse, there were no women in site, only men.

"Ah, you are late, but please, grab your badge and take a seat, we are just going over the night's agenda."

"No, I thought…" Buck backed up a step but the door was behind him.

A man left his chair and walked over. "Hey, its ok, we're all a little embarrassed at first. Most of us get sent here by other people, or as part of our sentence, come take a seat, you'll feel at home in no time."

Buck felt himself being led further into the room and tugged his arm back. Still trying to make sense of what had happened. Had he gone to the wrong place? Did he even have her number to call her? And the what in hell had he stumbled into?

"No, I'm…. at the wrong place."

"Are you Buck?" A man asked at a registration table.

"Buck? _No_! Maybe… why?" Buck said, totally flustered.

The man held out a badge with a name on it, _his_ name. He looked up. "Am I dreaming? How the hell did you know my name?"

The man looked down his list and looked up at Buck in sympathy. "Ohh, I see…" His voice turned soft as he tried to reassure the newcomer. "Your friend told us you might not like it, but that you would stay."

"My friend? She's here? Where?"

The man frowned, reading the name on the sheet. "No, your friend is a 'he'... Mr Tanner?"

Suddenly Buck's blood turned cold. He looked around the room, they were all staring at him. "What the hell is this place?"

A gentle hand touched his arm and he flinched away. He'd had enough. He grabbed one of the men by his collar. "What the hell is this place?"

The man gulped and looked at his friends. "It's the Society for MAS."

"_MAS_?" Buck asked frowning and giving the man a shake.

"MAS," the other man explained when Buck's victim could not find his voice. _"Men Addicted to Sex."_

Buck's eyes widened and he dropped the smaller man, ignoring his crash to the ground. He spun and looked around the room, took in the large 'MAS' banners, one that read '_You don't have to live with it any more!"_ and felt his face grow pale.

"I'm going to kill that son of a bitch…" He stormed towards the door and then stopped, turning to face the shocked men. "And you should all be ashamed of yourselves!" he shouted to them before leaving. He had him a Texan to hunt.

**Fini**


End file.
